


Come Home

by olliya



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Omake to Dreamt, Omake to She Comes At Midnight, Omake to TLOS, Omake to Veil Over Their Eyes, One Shot Collection, Warring States Period (Naruto), ratings will vary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 52,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olliya/pseuds/olliya
Summary: A collection of MadaSaku stories. For every day of January 2021 there will be one new story to fill the prompt. Different ratings, different genres and verses, all unified by desire of making this month a joyful one.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 181
Kudos: 178





	1. Eye Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victoriacapo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriacapo/gifts).



> I'm so very happy to start publishing my next project - a collection of MadaSaku prompts!
> 
> In contrast to all my previous ones, this project hasn't just arose out of my desire to create - this one has a reason and a purpose. This fic collection is a gift and is dedicated to victoriacapo. To make the coldest and darkest month a bit brighter, there will be one new story for every day of January :))) There are going to be feels and fluff and angst and smut and comedy and family vibes… Oneshots, two-shots and even one three-shot. There will be omakes to existing fics, lots of different Canon Deviations, many Warring Clans Era AUs; heck I even managed some Modern!AUs and a fairytale retelling! Think about it as of a box of chocolates - you'll never know what you will get! ;)
> 
> Many people contributed already to this project through brainstorming, supplementing me with ideas and cheering on me - thank you all, and you will be given credit in respective stories.
> 
> Huge, enormous THANK YOU goes already to yomi-gaeru who created that amazing, mind blowing art! (to be admired on tumblr)
> 
> The list of prompts can be found on my tumblr.

**1\. Eye Contact**

**Rating:** M

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

The meeting is long, three hours already and it doesn't look like it is going to end any soon. Kage and Daimyos are quarreling about land division between themselves, and all Madara has to do is to sit and watch how they annihilate one another. Sakura is half-shocked, half ashamed. World leaders, huh?

Uchiha Madara, who lived and reverted the Tsukuyomi himself, after the markings on the boys' hands faded upon sealing the goddess, dictates the conditions. He demanded a domain for himself but no patch of land is master-less and now the nations have to cut out their own flesh to create one.

Sakura sits behind her shishou – she is supposed to make notes, but what to make notes about if no one seems to be coming to any agreement? It takes a lot of self-control not to roll her eyes at some of the remarks of Tsuchikage. All Daimoys' statements are below contempt and Sakura has to admit that her shishou also had better moments. It is all very uncomfortable, and made even more so by the presence of the man across the table. He watches the leaders make fools of themselves and Sakura is in mild panic about how vulnerable they are now in front of him. Madara is a smart man, he surely sees that the government is inefficient and the lands are ripe for plucking. And, on top of that, whenever Sakura looks at him, she is reminded of his bearing during the war, of that breath-stealing terror she felt when he appeared in Obito's dimension. She chases those thoughts actively out of her head.

Madara sits, propping his chin on his palm. He wears no expression on his face save complete boredom and occasional disdain at one word or another that he hears. Then he straightens up on his chair and looks forward, in her direction. Correction – he looks at her.

Sakura reverts her eyes, yet she feels his gaze. She browses through her notes, she shifts in her chair, yet in her peripheral vision, she still sees him looking. Watching. She raises her eyes casually pretending she will just sweep her gaze around the room when her eyes meet his. It doesn't come off as casual. His eyes bore into hers and she freezes is a momentary shock.

She thinks she sees something in that blackness. Amusement? Does he enjoy making her squirm? She hates him. She hates him on a completely different level than she hated him until now - a megalomaniac who first caused that all, and then by some freakish stroke of luck cheated the fate and ended up being a victor. A savior. That even tasted foul on her tongue. Naruto was the savior! Should have been!

That were her sentiments until now – pretty generic. Global, one could even say. But now, now that he was blatantly staring at her across the room, now it's personal! And why would he even do that?

The situation is tense enough, Sakura knows that the villages were basically at his mercy, Naruto is in coma after Kyuubi's extraction, so is Kira Bee. And now he gets her as a target and enjoys himself in making her wiggle while she is defenseless. On a battlefield she would throw a punch, fight him, try doing something - as useless as it would be. Now she has a sit and endure his gaze.

His eyes leave her face and sweep down. And up again. Sakura flushes. She knows those kinds of looks. And he makes a show out of making it as obvious and sleazy as possible.

Sakura opens her mouth in indignation, sucks in her breath more loudly that she would like to and immediately panics - did anyone hear that?

No, they are too busy quarreling about some mountain range with large ore deposits.

Her eyes dart to him again, and as on cue Madara does the same thing. He scans her up and down, she almost _feels_ it, it's practically tactile! She is blushing, for sure she is. She feels so hot, so bothered. He is looking at her chest now and Sakura remembers what kind of bra she is wearing today. And that it was a bra, not the chest binding. She is suddenly so aware of the touch of smooth fabric against her nipples, and she fights with her all might not to look down. Because she knows, she just knows that her nipples pebbled. He sees it, he must. There is only ten meters across the room, and Uchiha, even without Sharingan, have superior eyesight.

Her breath gets shorter out of embarrassment and... what is it? What is this strange sensation between her legs?

Sakura is sitting straight, all proper on her chair by the wall, behind Tsunade-sama's place at the table, her legs parallel, both feet on the floor, a tablet on her lap. She needs to play the part. But now she feels the urge to wiggle, to move. She tenses her buttocks - it creates a minimal tension. She presses her thighs closer together - that's less effective. He watches, that's a given now. This strange sensation between her legs intensifies and she needs pressure. In desperation, Sakura crosses her ankles and tugs her legs more under the chair. A moment of relief, so she presses harder, moves on the chair so that her core comes into the contact with the surface of the seat. But all of it is too little, so frustratingly too little.

And he sees is all, she is so sure now, his eyes linger on the skin on her thighs and Sakura is furious with herself to have opted for a civilian-style skirt today. Because no matter how she presses her legs together, (and she presses them, her reasons double) he sees what's underneath.

When she looks up to his face, she sees almost a smirk.

Then their attention is diverted because Raikage punches the table, and Tsunade-sama yells at him, and Madara laughs. He laughs with such a bright, happy laughter that makes Sakura think he is enjoying it all. After that Daimyos shoot a barrage of questions and conditions at Madara and he agrees to some, he laughs at others and dignitaries sulk. Then they announce a break because all need to consult a dozen of other people, at which Madara laughs again. He then leaves without looking at her again.


	2. Greeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By pure coincidence and due to Prompts' order, this story is a continuation of Prompt No.1. Enjoy! ;)

**2\. Greeting**

**Rating:** E

 **Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU, same as in Prompt No.1

 **Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

Sakura sits crouched behind a stylized dragon on the tilted, tiled roof of the building in the best district. The foreign dignitaries are housed here usually. She was looking inside the yard of the house where Uchiha Madara was given his accommodation. She isn't quite sure even now why she came here on the first place. Spying on an enemy turned new political power isn't the best way to propel the negotiations into a desired direction.

Plus, what could she even spy out? The man is force of nature on his own, he doesn't need any underhanded tactics. She just spent her time watching him sit on the patio, drink tea, and then sit in the room and drink a second cup of tea. Very mundane. Yet she couldn't stop looking.

And moment ago he closed the paper doors to the garden and it seems as if he is about to leave. Despite still non-quenched discomfort Sakura jumps off the roof in one graceful movement and follows the high stone wall of the dignitaries villa towards the city center. Just as she turns, still ruminating at her behavior, at that strange impulse that drawn her here and made her spend hour of her life watching Uchiha Madara, she literally walks into him.

At first, she doesn't even recognize whom she walked into. She jumps away and starts bowing apologetically, when she sees the familiar dark robe. Breath gets caught in Sakura's lungs and all she can do is to bow deeper. And to hope that he will let the affront slide. "Greetings, Madara-sama…" she mumbles looking at the ground.

He makes a sound that can be interpreted as acknowledgment. Seeking safety in her stance, Sakura remains bowed. Maybe he will just walk away?

He doesn't. Shit. She cannot stay bowed all day long… Tentatively, Sakura straightens up. He is looking at her, with that strange detached look of estimating the wares on a market stand. Mildly insulting at best, if it wasn't for a glimmer that suggests he likes the wares.

Sakura feels something down her belly tighten the same way as in the meeting room. From up close he is even more intimidating than back then. And the effect his stare had is also stronger.

"Do you need something from me girl?" he asks.

Sakura shakes her head. How long was she standing in his closest personal space? That's so rude! Not to mention dangerous and highly unpolitical…

"I.. uhm…" Sakura blinks. She cannot quite gather her thoughts. Does she? Does she need anything from him? Could she even _need_ anything? That strange feeling in her lower belly is there, now even stronger than when she was watching him. She has an impression that walking will feel awkward.

"If you do, then get inside. I have still twenty minutes until I have that meeting. I'm pretty sure that whatever your predicament is, it can be dealt with in that time." He moves into the gate and stands there, looking at her.

Sakura is red. Redder than red. She should apologize for intrusion, excuse herself and scram. And somehow bribe Shizune into sitting as assistance on the next meeting. Instead she makes a step forward. She has to push past him in the narrow gateway as he doesn't step aside. She practically brushes against him - he takes too much space in the doorway. She ducks her head lower and enters the yard. Need? What does she need?

She passes a small temple-style garden, gravel and moss and carefully groomed ancient pines, and steps into the house. She hears him following, if she didn't, she would feel him.

In a corridor she stops, uncertain. "Where should I go?" she asks, starting to lift her foot to take off the sandal.

"Here will suffice," he tells her as he steps in her personal space.

She steps back, suddenly overwhelmed by habitual fear. Another step back and something bumps against her backside - a high chest of sort, she realizes as she turns her head.

Letting her eyes off him for even split of a second suffices. He grabs her arm and turns her so that she is facing the chest. With another hand he presses between her shoulder-blades and Sakura cannot help it - she bends over. If she's not using her chakra-enhanced strength, he is just too powerful for her. Sakura's eyes fly wide. It cannot be more obvious where it is going. Oh gods. She didn't plan for this. She still isn't quite sure why she even came here. She was so bothered after that meeting in the morning, that she ran to her office and after locking the door (and hanging her lab coat in the window - even though her office was on fourth floor, you never knew with all the ninja) she tried relieving herself. Not very successfully. There was something akin to orgasm in the end, but it left her more irritated than she was before. It was a strange curiosity pushed her here. But still. She didn't quite expect to find herself bent over and about to be fucked.

Sakura plants both her palms against the wood, trying to lift herself up.

"Wait," she says. "Wait a moment!"

He halts.

What should she say? That he should stop? Let her go? Or… slow down? That she doesn't know what to do? That she doesn't have much clue? What an absolute embarrassment. She came here, she basically stalked him, she entered his house on his invitation. She was a grown-up woman, unheard of a kunoichi to be unexperienced at this age. It only worked for her because she was saving herself for Sasuke _and_ her shishou was sparing her apprentice all those seduction mission that other girls were forced to take. And that one only time right after war, when she though that everything would be just perfect, brought her all the suffering and none of the delight she expected. Nor any of repercussions she hoped for. She bites her lip. What should she say?

"What? Slower?" he asks. "I would love to, but I don't have much time."

Keeping one hand between her shoulder blades he pulls her skirt up with another. Sakura gasps. His fingers graze across her sex, pushing the underwear to the side.

"You're soaked." He pushes his fingers inside and Sakura arches her back with a cry. He wiggles his fingers and she thinks she'll go crazy, that her mind will shatter into thousand pieces and scatter on that expensive wooden floor.

"And all open. No need to play around. Any wider and it won't be fun, neither for me nor for you."

Sakura wants to gasp in indignation, because maybe it was an offense, but then he lets go of her and she hears shuffling of clothes, and she knows it's him undressing and she panics. "Wait up!" She straightens up and turns, his cock is out and again she is at loss with words. Is that going to be it? "Was it a genjutsu? Back then? In a meeting?" She needs to know; she at least needs to know if it was really her who came here and didn't even need a touch from him to have her juice running down her legs.

He laughs. "No." He shakes his head. "No, it wasn't."

His laughter is so genuine, so heartfelt that she believes him. They are ninja, they are born and bred to deceive one another, yet she looks at him laughing and she believes. She turns back around and lowers her chest to the wood again. She keeps her head turned, even though she won't see a place where they will join, at least she will see his face. He's still smiling. There is a good deal of smugness in this smile, but otherwise... it is just a smile of someone who is happy.

She feels his hands on her hips and then she feels him inside. Sakura's eyes roll back, her eyesight gone. All that she perceives is that touch, that sensation of something moving inside her. Oh gods. Oh gods. She gasps for air and a split of second later he retreats. He jams in again and she wails, air pushed out of her, the thrust resonating in her insides. Oh gods. It feels nothing like that idiotic toy that Ino gave her for 18th birthday and forced to promise to use. Another slam. And another. Soon she loses count.

He grabs her leg and hoists it up, thigh and knee onto the chest. He reaches even deeper. Sakura cries and simpers and sobs and she comes so hard like never before. He fucks her through her orgasm, but she barely registers it, she barely registers anything.

The moment she slumps he withdraws, pulls at her, turns her around and pushes at her shoulder. Still boneless, still dizzy, she half-crouches, a half-kneels down, because there is no way she can resist, especially when her legs are soft and weak and her head is spinning so much.

Before she realizes, his cock is aligned with her mouth and she doesn't even know how but he pushes in. She wants to protest, but her mouth is full and he holds the back of her head. So she props her hands against his hips to push him away but he is stronger and then he comes. She almost chokes out of surprise. His load lands deep in her throat and survival instincts tells her to swallow before her mind can tell her that it's gross and disgusting and that she doesn't want to.

He stills but doesn't let go of her head.

"Will you clean me up, if just a little bit? I need to go to that meeting..." he says, and there is no trace of demand in his voice. Just one person asking another for assistance in something he cannot do on his own.

Tentatively she runs tongue around him, for the first time really feeling that part of his anatomy. Any part of his anatomy, she mentally corrects herself. She didn't touch him at all, only with her tongue against his cock. In her mouth... Sakura's knees go weak once again at the terror of what she's just done. Good that she kneeling because she would fall. She slowly slides her lips along him, trying to gather as much of the juices as she can.

Finally, she releases his tip with a small suck and quickly licks her lips. She really hopes that nothing is there. She touches them to make sure.

"I think it's fine now..." she says uncertainly as she sits back on her heels, her backside against that damn chest.

"Thank you. I believe you will let yourself out on you own? Because I might already be late." He walks up to the door, and on the step he stops and turns. "It is really a disgrace how this place has changed, and you cannot get any decent food except for all those horrid modern inventions," he says with disdain in his voice, "the only place that serves something akin to proper food is the Akimichi restaurant. Care to join me tonight?"

Sakura's jaw drops.

"No idea how long this ordeal will last," he gestures in a general direction of the city, "but I will pick you up when it's done."

"How... how will you know where to find me?" manages Sakura through her shock.

"Oh, I'll find you. You're not difficult to localize," he smirks and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please tell me your thoughts!


	3. Cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of many fics featuring the verse envisioned by victoriacapo for her fic "She Comes At Midnight". The original fic is on its initial stages, and very far away plot-wise from these slice-of-life domestic vibes I wrote here. Also, since the original is still a WIP, I can be very far off the mark. Please consider my drabble a fanfiction of an unfinished fanfiction. A very loose variation from the original.

**3\. Cleaning**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Hokage Madara Verse by victoriacapo

**Idea/Inspiration:** OC is a creation (and a beloved child) of victoriacapo

* * *

Sakura gathered her hair into a bun.

Ever since she got her family, she started to see the household duties differently. Before it was the most dreaded chore, combined with a feeling 'why am I even doing that, it's not worth the effort.' It wasn't worth to cook for one person only, it wasn't worth to clean when she was the only person who had to navigate through her own mess. It wasn't worth doing anything really.

She did nevertheless, for time to time, and each time the action filled her with a sense of loneliness and dejection.

Now it was different, thought Sakura picking up Masaru's sock from under the chair. Where was the other one? Sakura looked around. How for heaven's sake did it land on the lamp?

Sakura climbed on the chair and retrieved the second sock.

Yes, household chores was irritating still, and troublesome and mentally tiring. But now she was doing it for someone. For her very own _someones_. And, oddly enough, through the mess they created she could glimpse the essence of their persons. Even the disorder Masaru and Madara were leaving behind carried an unmistakable footprint of who they were.

She expected that warm fuzzy feeling to change into irritation in years to come, but for now it wasn't such a bad feeling at all.

Sakura placed Masaru's trousers – as always turned inside out and crumpled – into the basket on her hip. Masaru always had to whip every single piece of clothing he was taking off against the floor. And preferably stomp on it as well. And no amount of explanation of how it damaged the clothes helped.

Sakura bent to change the sheets from her son's bed. Masaru had a modern bed, standing rather high above the floor. He wanted it this way even though for the first year after he started to sleep alone it was a source of constant worry to Sakura. Masaru was tossing and turning so much in his sleep that Sakura resorted to building a protective layer of futons around the bed every night after he had fallen asleep. She would very much prefer if he simply slept on one as they did, but Masaru, even at age of three, had his opinions. And wanted his parents to follow up those opinions.

She took off the case from the cover and knelt on the bed to retrieve the bedsheet. Something under her knee gave away.

Furrowing her eyebrows Sakura lifted the mattress. Of course. One of the slats, spanning between the rectangular frame that held the bed together, was broken. What had this kid been doing? He sure jumped up and down on the bed regularly, it was the reason why he wanted the modern bed and not the futon in the first place, but he weighed 15 kg at maximum. How could something so small... Well, Sakura now remembered that strange crack she had heard yesterday evening, when she finally managed to hunt Masaru to bed.

Back then she couldn't place the origin. When she had called out to Masaru he was suspiciously mellow, and had yelled a response that he had been already changing into his pajamas. Now Sakura could visualize what had happened. Masaru jumped on the bed with full speed, probably having gathered the momentum all the way from the kitchen. That would have also explained why he had been quiet like a mouse and didn't need additional nagging to get into the bed.

Half-amused, half-irritated Sakura headed towards hers and Madara's bedroom. She would do one bigger laundry for all the beddings, she decided pulling at the covers.

Ouch, these bedsheets _needed_ changing. She could see the stains of their juices all over them. Normally, after their love-making they would both get up and wash up. But yesterday they had cuddled, and it had been just so comfy and blissful and perfect and Sakura supposed they just both passed out. A rare thing. Madara was always so dutiful.

Next was Madara's studio. He had his own, overlooking directly the koi pond and the longest part of the garden. He claimed he always wanted to have a space with a view. He said I helped him to remember about perspective when he was dealing with issues. And dealing with issues he was. So many people wanted things from him. Suddenly, as Uchiha clan was back it turned out that dozens of people were having claims. How convenient that when it was Konoha managing what was left of the clan's assets, they never voiced those claims.

At home he was dealing with things as the head of Uchiha clan. Which didn't make his duties as Hokage any fewer. It only made Sakura worried – how long could he manage under such a strain?

On his desk - piles of petition from people wanting something from him. Or complaining about something.

And as the rebuilding of the Uchiha compound was going on to accommodate the house for Sasuke, the owners of neighborhood were flooding Madara with their letters. Mostly they had a problem with Uchiha territory encroaching onto theirs. Some didn't like the noise of constructions. Sakura piled up the papers. There was even a letter complaining about the bell's sound during ceremonies. Sakura rolled her eyes.

But nicer letters were as well there. Descendants of old Uchiha clan retainers declaring willingness to be associated with the clan again. Letters asking for support. There were some asking for monetary help, of course, but there also were some asking for advice. Sakura's eyes stopped at a letter written on yellowish, clearly handmade paper. It was about a child born with a strong fire-chakra affinity that was causing problems in its rural environment as his parents were afraid of his abilities, as a local priest in the carefully worded letter was describing. Oh, that must be that case which Madara had raised with her two days ago – about getting retainers into the house, adopting them into the family. Sakura at the beginning reacted with refusal, but now, palming the letter written on the old, apparently saved for special occasions, paper; the letter written by shaking hand of a priest she was starting to reconsider. Something to discuss again, she concluded returning the letter onto the pile.

From under another sheet of paper a small box appeared - oh, her house scalpel-set! She had been looking for them everywhere! Apparently Madara appropriated them as letter openers. Sakura held back an urge to jam the scalpel box into her pocket in irritation. But she could as well leave them here – they were for sure all blunt by now. And now she knew what to buy him for the next birthday.

She sorted the letters hoping he wouldn't mind it. Received letters on one pile, the drafts of his responses on the another.

She gathered the writing utensils to wipe the dust from the surface. Another discovery - a pen she thought she lost. The one she had back from the Academy times, garish red.

A cup after green tea, she told him so many times to bring them back because otherwise they get stained permanently.

On the left part of the table several animal figurines for Masaru standing in different stages of half-finishment. Sakura felt her lips stretch in a smile as she was putting them into the drawer. Standing outside they were just dust-collectors. Her eyes landed on a small box covered with seafoam-green satin. Pushed by her curiosity, she opened it. A pair of jeweled earrings lied on the small velvet cushion inside. Earrings of abstract design made of metal covered with green patina that looked like sakura branches before the flowers bloom.

Sakura gingerly closed the box and took out the figurines from the drawer. They can collect the dust a little longer. It wouldn't do if she ruined the surprise Madara was trying to make for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and please tell me what you think! :)


	4. Fog, Haze and Smoke

**4\. Fog, Haze and Smoke**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** TLOS-Verse

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

He jerked his head away from her and stared at the supply belt at his feet. With furrowed eyebrows he looked and looked and looked at it, as if not understanding.

"I stay," she repeated. "I'm not walking a single step away from you. No matter what awaits me down there," Sakura gestured downslope, "I'm not going there if you decided to make a display out of staying. Heck, even if there is a miraculously revived entire Konoha down there – I'm not leaving you!" He still was looking down, almost at his own feet. "And for fuck's sake – look at me when I'm talking to you!"

He did. "I'm only trying to do the correct thing," he said quietly. She could barely see his features. The night was close and heavy fog was rising from between the trees.

Sakura's throat got dangerously narrow. "I know. But by 'doing the right thing' you mean giving me a choice, right? Then it also means you have to accept _my_ decision. And this is my decision."

He nodded slowly. And then he looked up. There was nothing there to see – thick leaf-cover made sky invisible, even if it would be to see now through all the fog. By the sound of the inhale she could only guess how deep his chest must have moved.

"What is it?" asked Sakura.

"What? I'm not sure. Just a feeling that something is done. Something has finished."

"In good or in bad way?"

He looked back at her. Sakura strained her eyes to see his expression. "In a good way," he said and leaned down to pick up her belt. "Let's get to you to your new village. I'm sure they could make a good use of a healer."

"Me? My new village? I've told you already…"

" _Our_ new village."

"Uhm, just don't get your hopes too high about that 'village' thing, alright dattebayo?" Naruto's voice coming from the side ripped Sakura out of the moment. "I don't want to you guys to imagine Konoha and get disappointed…" Naruto was babbling cheerful nonsense, but his face bore that expression that Sakura had seen each time a new jutsu had been explained in Academy – an expression of putting up a good front while not understanding a single word of the instructions. Well, she could as well help him understand – Sakura grabbed Madara's hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

Naruto gulped and fell silent. Would he lash out?

"Let's go then," he said thickly, so completely Naruto-unlike that Sakura felt a pang of guilt. This time he didn't pull at her hand nor in any way entered her personal space, he just started walking, so all Madara and her could do was to follow.

Naruto guided them down and down, between the trees where no path was discernible. Sakura wondered how he was managing to find the way without any noticeable roadmarks and with no ninja sensing abilities. Well, it would take some time to get used to being an ordinary human. There were so many things she had been taking for granted being a shinobi. Life would be harder without all the ninja powers...

The night was deep when a long-forgotten smell reached Sakura's nose. Smell of smoke, of fire; of fire started with imperfectly dried wood. Of food cooked over the flames… She and Madara sure made fire every evening, but theirs was a different fire – from years-long dried planks harvested from the demolished buildings, started by the might of a Katon jutsu. It didn't carry all these smells. Sakura inhaled. This smoke smelled like… people…

It was then when Naruto stopped.

"Why don't you…" he paused and audibly swallowed as if searching for words, "you guys wait here. I'll go get Sasuke. He will be… very surprised…" finished Naruto in a rather uncertain tone.

"You're saying it as if it was a bad thing?" asked Sakura. Heck, it was starting to become a hell of a treacherous waters to navigate. Even Naruto was feeling uneasy and now Sasuke… How would he react? If the community gets a whiff who and what Madara was… Or used to be in their world… Suddenly Sakura remembered that they never had a chance to learn Sasuke's real intentions behind joining the Shinobi alliance. "How is Sasuke these days? You were hoping to be rescued, right? Do you know what was he planning afterwards?"

"Uhm, Sakura-chan… How to say? Sasuke… Sasuke isn't the person we used to know. He has this super dark view on the world. I don't know where did he get it from, but it's like some cloud, like this fog and no matter what I do I cannot dispel it! I'm not so sure what he would have done if we had returned and he had got his powers back… Sometimes... sometimes I think he would want to kill me…"

In the first impulse, Sakura gasped. But then she mentally berated herself - nothing to be shocked about. Sasuke attempted to kill them – Sakura herself, Naruto, Kakashi-sensei – multiple times in the past. She always assumed that his head wasn't in right place in those moments. But who could tell in what place his head was right now? The isolation, the forced idleness, being rendered resourceless – all that didn't sound like something that would do any good to a person who valued his powers as much as Sasuke did.

"So, you see Sakura-chan… I'm sure he will be very happy to see you!" Oh, so Naruto learned how to lie. But he was still the worst liar ever. "But with you, Madara-san…" Naruto continued, "I'm not so sure… The last time we saw you, you were trying to kill us, dattebayo!" laughed Naruto nervously, his hand finding way to the back of his head.

"Alright. We'll wait," said Madara sitting down on a log. "Go get him. For your and our sake, we should approach the village in peace and presenting a united front. If we cannot establish stable peaceful relations, we should rather seek out another community to join."

Naruto disappeared between the trees. Sakura propped the back of her head against a tree trunk. She was about to see Sasuke… Instead of elation she felt only dread.

It took a long while – Naruto must have been having a hard time explaining the situation. He was never particularly good in explaining, chuckled Sakura to herself drumming her fingers absentmindly against the wood. She only hoped that the problem now lied in Naruto's lack of skill in throwing light onto the situation and not in Sasuke's attitude.

Finally, they came. She heard them much earlier than she saw them - rustling of leaves and cracking of twigs betrayed them from afar. Not much was to be seen anyway – the moisture that hung between the trees was obstructing the view. But it made the sounds travel far.

Then she saw them – two shapes darker than darkness around them. One moving swiftly in ragged, jumpy way, the other all fluid, controlled motions. They came closer.

With her peripheral vision she saw Madara standing up and straightening himself to his full height.

Sakura smelled the smoke. The smoke permeating the clothing of a person who sat by the fire in a closed space for a long time. She raised her eyes to look into Sasuke's face.

No joy. No surprise. No trace of smile there. Well, the news she brought were probably the worst he could have received. And the fact that it was _her, Sakura_ who brought it, who appeared in that world, didn't seem to matter to him.

Let all the gods of her dead world and of this new one be thanked a hundred times that it wasn't breaking her heart anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm really curious what you think...


	5. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one isn't a MadaSaku, but rather a Madara-centric story. Sorry... Initially I thought I will have more of those, but in the end I managed to come up with so many shipping scenarios, that at this point this is the only non-shippy one left. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it.

**5\. Fear**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Warring Clans Era - Canon Augmentation

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

He first learned about him when he was nine. Mother died and Grandmother moved in to take care of him and Izuna. That involved mostly cooking because by then they could handle themself pretty well.

Nevertheless, Madara was happy that Grandmother was there. With her the house was less empty, even though she didn't talk much and when she did it was mostly scolding. But in the evening, when Izuna was sleepy and tired, he would go to Grandmother that was at that time usually sitting by the fireplace and he would cuddle and put his head on her lap. Grandmother held him, and Madara was endlessly grateful for that. And he felt relieved by the consciousness that in case he wanted, if he really, really needed it, he would be allowed to hide his head on Grandmother's lap. And that she wouldn't chase him away with shaming words.

It only took three days in the household for Madara to recognize that Grandmother had her own affairs. It took him a week to realize what they were.

Mid-afternoon, when all the cooking was done, Grandmother started to pack. She placed a portion of today's meal into clay pots, wrapped them in cloths and quietly left the house. At the first impulse Madara wanted to run up to her and help her out. He held himself back though. Grandmother's pots didn't look heavy and didn't ask for assistance either. Keeping his distance Madara quietly followed. Grandmother, moving in a steady pace of a person who had travelled the same road dozens of times, left the village and went deeper into the forest. His curiosity peaked impossibly high, Madara kept sneaking. Grandmother walked and walked and walked, until she reached a small hut.

Having followed her in secrecy, Madara knew he shouldn't reveal himself now. He waited until she left back towards the village - which took really long time and he managed to get bored, but telling himself it was a good ninja training, he endured. Only then he sneaked towards the cottage and peaked through the window. It was so dark inside. How could someone live in that darkness, especially when the sun shone so bright outside? It was a chilly March day, that's true, and the sun didn't have much power but its brightness and the crisp blues of the sky made up for the thermal discomfort.

As he couldn't see anything through the window, he sneaked up to the door and carefully pushed them open. Still too dark to see. Madara stepped inside. And then he noticed it: a silhouette in the dark room. A man. Sitting on the floor. Next to him – the clay pots from their house. Only then he realized it had been a very, very bad idea. Encroaching on an Uchiha in his house, encroaching on any ninja, in any circumstances – never a good idea.

But it was too late. He was standing at the doorstep and the man was staring right at him. He didn't move a muscle yet, but the shirt on Madara's back was damp already – he could be attacked any time! For what seemed minutes he looked at man's face not really seeing his expression. Only after a long while he finally realized – the grimace that man's face was contorted into was that of fear and confusion. The eyes staring right at Madara were unmoving and dead. And then he understood – the man was blind.

"Who are you?" asked the man in a rough voice, a voice of someone who didn't make use of his vocal cords too often.

By then Madara's eyes were accustomed to the darkness enough to see that the man's right palm and a good part of his forearm were missing.

"Who are you?" demanded the man and tried lifting himself up. There was fear in his voice and fear in the way he grasped around himself, looking for the crutch. "What do you want?"

Madara escaped. The man's face was that of his father.

He chewed on in for the entire week. He followed Grandmother twice to the hut, not really knowing what for.

One day he gathered his courage.

"Who is that man? That man whom you bring food? And why does he look like Father?" he fired all his questions at once. He chose the moment strategically, when grandmother was pounding the rice for mochi. This work shouldn't be interrupted so she couldn't walk away on him. She had to answer.

Grandmother turned sharply and narrowed her eyes. Madara squared his shoulders expecting scolding. But grandmother only looked at him.

"He's your uncle," she said in the end.

"Uncle? I have an uncle?"

Grandmother lowered her head and didn't lift it anymore from over the sticky rice she was pounding, functionally ignoring him.

"Why have no one ever told us? Why is he there? Why doesn't he live with us?"

Grandmother didn't stop pounding the rice.

"Why are you bringing him food in secret?! Grandmother!"

She punched the riceball with more force than usually and she stopped. "Why? Because that's how it has to be now. I'm still his mother."

"It has to be like that? Like what? And why?"

"It will be explained to you when you grow up."

"I am grown up! I go to missions for three years now. I know about Sharingan! I know that eyes are our greatest asset. But that man... our uncle – he is blind! What happened to him? I have to know about the clan, about our strength and weaknesses if I am supposed to… to make sure no one gets hurt. I'm the oldest," Madara swallowed. 'The oldest' was a wrong word. There were just two of them left. "I'm older," he corrected himself, "and I need to become stronger to take care of Izuna and…"

A strange grimace crept on Grandmother's face. Something between disgust and pity, as it she saw a disemboweled animal that was still crawling.

"Oh, that you will…"

Realizing that Grandmother wasn't going to tell him anything, Madara approached his father when he returned from the mission. That was a risky maneuver, as Father was unpredictable in his reactions. Sometimes he would talk to them with kindness, warmth and patience, other times he would lash out at them. Madara never knew. It got only worse after Mother died. Risking an outburst of anger (but only an outburst, Madara was certain he was fast enough to dodge a hit if his father had one coming at him) he asked, "Why is your brother blind and living alone outside of the village?"

Father didn't lash out. He stared at him. What was about that man in the hut that made both Grandmother and Father behave this way? Madara felt increasingly uneasy.

He didn't expect Father to answer at this point. It was clear that there was something there the adults didn't want to talk about.

"He is blind because he lacked resolve," said Father and pursed his lips. "He should have struck earlier."

"Earlier?" echoed Madara.

"Yes, earlier. Before the overuse of jutsus took his eyesight. But he was hesitant. Too soft. He was trying to delay the inevitable. He should have come after me when his eyes still had some light."

Madara gulped. Father had been drinking, there was a bottle of sake on the table. Lucky for him, the alcohol loosened up his tongue. Or maybe he wanted to impart some parental advice on him, maybe it was supposed to be a lesson of sort. Either the way Madara would be wise not to interrupt. But… uncle should have come after Father…? Madara felt he should fish for some more info.

"Why is his hand missing?" he asked, aiming at a detached tone.

"I've cut it away."

Madara gulped. He couldn't let Father notice how much that remark affected him. "And his eyes?"

"Oh, that's his own doing. He gambled with that freaky kaleidoscope eyes. First, he didn't have qualms to sacrifice his best friend, and then he didn't have enough spine to come after me fast enough. Remember son, if you say A you should have guts to say B. Half measures are for failures."

Father took another swig from the bottle.

"Kaleidoscope eyes? Are they more powerful than Uchiha's Sharingan?"

"They _are_ our Sharingan. It's evolved form. And yes, they are powerful."

"So why didn't you...?"

"Because I was too smart to chase after those mirages. To sacrifice my life, and for what?"

Madara narrowed his eyes. Yes, Father would never sacrifice his life. For anything, really. He was empty - empty of ambitions, empty of dreams. He never thought about leaving the world a better place than he had found it. The worm that was crawling in his chest stirred.

"What does one need to sacrifice?" Maybe Father would tell him. Maybe his tongue was loose enough today.

"First the life of your friend. And then, when you start losing your sight, the life your brother. _Before_ you go too weak."

Madara felt how his knees went soft. With all his might he hoped it didn't show. Father cannot notice. He can never notice fear in Madara. That would be the end. He would use that fear.

Bile rose in his throat. He wanted to throw up. Fishing for intel would need to wait because now he needed to run. Run and get into the sun. Get his head under cold water.

Get to Izuna and make sure he was safe.

Would he ever? Would he ever do such a thing? He dashed out of the house and ran. Yard. Fence. Another fence. Orchard.

Would he go after power and claim Izuna's life? Would he be pushed to that? Madara's stomach churned. Would he become a man like his uncle? Mad for power to the point of killing his loved ones? Or would he become like father? Bitter and cynical and empty? Sakura trees of the orchard blurred in his eyes.

Madara stopped and swayed. His heart was beating like crazy. Could he hurt Izuna? Will his path ever lead him to it?

Bark of the tree was rough under his palms. Old cherry trees had rough bark.

What fate awaited him? What had happened to his father and his uncle that they ended up like this? It wasn't the first time he felt fear. He did already, many times on battlefield. Recently it happened rarely, but there was still this nasty tingle in his chest when he was facing an adult, enemy shinobi. He remembered the gnawing fear when he and Masaru hid from the Inuzuka, when the dogs where sniffling around the fox den, when they were _prey_.

But now it was different. He wasn't afraid of the danger in front of him. Or behind him, chasing him.

Now it was a fear about his future. He was afraid _of his future_. Suddenly instead of bright path that he was supposed to, destined to follow, he saw a black swamp. What monsters awaited him? What monster would he become? Grasping at a declining tree branch Madara doubled down and retched.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think about this one!


	6. Closed Doors

**6\. Closed Doors**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Shippuden-timeline AU

**Inspiration/Idea:** me

* * *

Kabuto started to disappear really often last weeks. Sakura knew he was travelling, meeting some shady people. More shady and much more dangerous than the usual human-trafficking scum he was consorting with. She knew it by the fear she could smell on her boss each time he was leaving.

She wished he wouldn't return. That one day he would be just gone and then the seals surrounding the facility would dissipate as all the seals do with the death of the caster. She was working for him, she had a degree of freedom and Kabuto considered her opinion in scientific matters, but her cage was just a tad larger than the cages of human subjects kept in the hideout.

Yet he kept returning. The snake bastard just refused to die. Sakura suspected that Kabuto acquired some of the regenerative abilities from their former master – Orochimaru.

And then one day Kabuto stopped travelling. He all but disappeared behind the closed doors of his lab.

Sakura was happy to be left to her devices. She had her own projects and her own lab – something that was granted to her still in Orochimaru's times, back then when Sasuke was around and world held at least some kind of promise to her. Now Sasuke-kun was gone, he had broken free and it was the only consolation she had. She hoped he was safe out there, and even though she knew she shouldn't, Sakura hoped that he defeated his brother and found peace. A tiny voice that she learned to ignore was asking questions nevertheless: if Sasuke-kun indeed succeeded why wasn't he coming back for her? And why did he leave her here in the first place?

That nasty little voice kept piping into her ear, especially in the evenings, when she was trying to get some sleep. That's why Sakura preferred daytime. She was working in parallel on implants and tissue modifications and she was doing a real good progress on the latter. The grafts kept getting rejected but when she got a raw mass of cells into a rapid division stage, she was able to form them into beginning of organs. It was utterly fascinating.

On top of that, recently, with Kabuto so absent, she could make her own pick from the prisoners. Sakura made sure she took the nasty scum – bought out criminals and such - as experimental subjects and kept randomly captured villagers as controls. She had to kill them either the way, experimental ones and controls alike, but at least she could spare the innocent people the suffering of experimentation. And the death she dealt was quick and painless – no matter a worst offender or an innocent. That was the least she could do for them.

So, all things considered, Sakura could keep herself – well, 'happy' was a completely wrong word – but in a safe distance from despair that would prompt her to take her own life and just be done with that all. She kept her mind occupied and her hopes at bay. Someday, someday for sure Kabuto would falter. And then she would run away.

But before that day could have come, another one did. A day when Kabuto called her to his highest security lab. She had only bad feelings about that lab. And even worse memories.

She had to cross a spiderweb of protective seals – some were opened for her by Kabuto from the inside, to others she knew the hand seals herself. First thing she saw inside, were sedated prisoners bound into tight bundles. Two lied already dead by the opposite wall – their eyes unnaturally open and entirely white – a clear sign that Kabuto had been performing some Edo Tensei.

"A challenging new project for you Sakura-chan…" started Kabuto not turning away from the tissue culture container he was digging in with a pair of long forceps. "How is your progress on the tissue differentiation?"

"Good…" answered Sakura carefully. "When I catch the cells at the right proliferation rate, I can guide them into shapes. I've managed to change cell morphology twice, but that's still preliminary."

"What is the 'right' proliferation rate for you?"

"Fast. Very fast. I have a lot of losses so the division has to make up for that. Otherwise I just end up wasting the cells…"

Kabuto turned to her and Sakura cowered. There was clear reproach on his face. He wasn't satisfied. He wasn't happy that she was so inefficient. Cold sweat beaded on Sakura's back. She could do better! It was just the matter of practice! But before she could open her mouth to defend herself, Kabuto spoke. "Then you're lucky, because those cells – are the fastest I've ever seen."

"How fast?"

"Doubling time around one hour."

Sakura bolted towards the table, the ominous 'challenging project' promptly forgotten – now the enthusiasm and curiosity was getting the better of her. "It cannot be! That's like... like bacteria! That's impossible!" she looked at the flask Kabuto was holding. Tissue looked perfectly normal, as any other she ever had in culture.

Kabuto only arched his eyebrow at her.

"So, your task…"

Sakura held her breath. Right, she wasn't here for nothing. And with all that security… That wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

"I have an Edo Tensei specimen. And I want to augment him with those cells."

Sakura furrowed her eyebrows.

"An implant into an Edo Tensei? What sense does that make…? They can rebuild themselves once they are damaged…"

"Just make the implant work..." That wouldn't be much of a problem. Bodies of Edo Tenseis were like inorganic substrate, like paper or tree bark of sort… They would be just a scaffold for the living cells, graft rejection wouldn't be a problem. "…And then form it into a midbrain."

Cogs in Sakura's mind stopped turning. Just stopped. A midbrain? Was Kabuto crazy? That was dozens of different tissues, extremely complex structures. That was insanity.

"It doesn't have to be functional nor connected to anything. Just make sure that it's there."

"Kabuto-sama… That's impossible… I can't…"

Something flashed across Kabuto's face. He will kill her. This time he will. She could have just outlived her usefulness and the margin of her cheekiness. Kabuto hated being told he was wrong. He will kill her for the disobedience. And she won't have an easy death. Sakura prepared her chakra – she could still escape into suicide before he gets his hands on her.

But no attack came. Kabuto just folded his lips into a polite expression. "Why don't you just try, Sakura-chan," he suggested with poisonous sweetness. "Here's your Edo Tensei subject." Dragged the prisoner into a prepared circle of seals.

In a flurry of paper-like scales – a view she was more than used to right now - a new body appeared in place of the twisted heap of the captive.

A male. Tall, black-haired. Kabuto immediately inserted a control tag into the back of his head. From the short glimpse at the tag Sakura realized that it was the strongest controller that they had in use. Who was that man? Who was it that even as an Edo Tensei he was worthy a surgery of an unheard-of scope…?

"You have food supplies for two weeks there," Kabuto pointed towards a cabinet. "Do your best my dear…"

Before she could protest Kabuto stepped through the seals. She could only watch as he was adding one layer after another to the already dense net. The air in the room, always stale and smelly started to feel even worse. Kabuto stood in the door. "For your own sake, don't disappoint me," he told her. The door closed.

Sakura took a shaky inhale. Two weeks on four square meters of the room that wasn't occupied by the layers of seals. With two dead bodies. And an Edo Tensei that was apparently powerful enough that Kabuto used the strongest tag. And for a reason, that still escaped her, sealed the room with so many protective barriers… The patterns that glimmered around the closed door were nothing that was even vaguely familiar to her. Kabuto had her thoroughly shut in here. The barrier seals weren't necessary to keep her at her task. There were other seals she couldn't break, seals etched into her flesh - exactly the ones that kept her in the hideout, and Kabuto knew it. And he knew that she knew what kind of things he would do to her for disobedience. Why the security then? Was the Edo Tensei so precious? And why did Kabuto leave? Normally he would be all too eager to participate in such an experiment…

Anyways, she should get to work. Two weeks said Kabuto. She should start with sealing away the corpses else they would start to stink.

With heavy sigh Sakura retrieved a sealing scroll and two bodies disappeared with a puff. Then she examined the bench, looking what supplies she had, and automatically started arranging them, while her thoughts wondered around the task. Well, if the cells were dividing really that fast – she confirmed that with a quick glimpse into the microscope - then she had an almost unlimited supply. She could make a mistake after mistake, and the cells would just cover for it. With trial and error maybe she could make it… Sakura rubbed her forehead – how did the neurons in midbrain even look like?

Deep in her thoughts, she placed a piece of tissue from the flask onto a dish and walked up to the Edo Tensei.

"Sit down," she said slowly and clearly - Edo Tenseis with such strong suppression tags had problems with comprehending the speech. And he was too tall, she needed him in her range.

The man didn't move. "Sit. Down," repeated Sakura. Kabuto overdid it with that tag, how was she supposed to work in these conditions?

Sakura raised her eyes to the Edo Tensei. And froze. Edo Tensei was _looking_ at her. Looking. At _her_. Not through her, not even straight ahead as they always did. Looking at her. And skeptically so.

She took a shaky step back. With that tag she should be dealing with a vegetable here. Quite suitable state if she was supposed to insert stuff inside his head. But this Edo Tensei was conscious.

Alright. Conscious or not, it was immobilized. And she had work to do.

"Sit down." She said louder, trying to sound confident. Not that it mattered – it wasn't a person, it was just a reanimation. She only wanted to do some pep-talk to herself.

"For what purpose?"

Sakura tripped. She literally tripped.

Edo Tensei turned his head slowly and stiffly to examine her scrambling on the floor.

"What year is it, where are we, who are you and what is your objective? In that order it you may."

His voice sounded mechanical and rough, but there was no mistake. It was a human speaking through Edo Tensei. A very conscious human. And a human that was just formulating a strategy. Whatever the strategy would turn out to be, it was no good news for her. She had her task, and she needed to complete it. Whoever the Edo Tensei was, he wouldn't get any intel from her.

Sakura decided to ignore him. He anyhow wouldn't be able to move without her command. He proved to be damn difficult to work with, but Sakura wouldn't be discouraged by small inconveniences. Especially when her life and hide were on stake. She pursed her lips in irritation and dragged a stool towards the Edo Tensei. She would need to climb up to reach his head, thought Sakura placing her foot on the stool and trying to balance a dish, a set of scalpels and two types of forceps in one hand while using her other hand to prop herself against reanimation's shoulder.

His hand shot out and grabbed her at the throat. Sakura tripped, stool falling from under her feet. Hand on her throat squeezed harder. She couldn't breathe! Her legs kicked ineffectually, trying to find some purchase, trying to do something while she was hanging mid-air… He will break her neck! He will! Black spots appeared in front of her eyes.

She almost didn't register that she got shaken. She did register though something hitting the back of her head. And once again unrestricted airways. Sakura's hands shot towards her throat trying to massage away the pain as she opened her eyes and found herself on the floor by the opposite wall. He must have thrown her.

And now he was looming over her.

"Whomever you are afraid of so much – I assure you – I am worse. Start being afraid of me, girl."

Sakura gulped. He could very well be correct. And afraid she was. She had no chances. Edo Tenseis were indestructible, medical ninjutsu didn't work on them, neither did genjutsu (not that Sakura's genjutsu were on particular high level). And sealing such a powerful shinobi was far out of her scope.

"Talk, girl. I don't have time." She looked up at him. Tears from strangulation were still obstructing her vision. "Year. What year is it?"

"80 years after Konoha foundation," she whispered.

"Konoha's dating system? I assume we are in the Land of Fire then?"

"Yes. On the border of it. Border to Grass."

"What is this place?"

"A hideout… a secret base."

"Of _whom_? Am I supposed to drag every tidbit of information out of you or will you finally start talking?"

Sakura took a long inhale. This man will hurt her, much sooner than Kabuto will. If she wanted to survive, she had to cooperate.

"Currently the base belongs to Kabuto. It used to belong to Orochimaru." The man's expression told her that none of the names rang any bells. She could very soon outlive her usefulness to him. "Orochimaru - " she repeated "- the Sannin of Konoha and a missing nin. He was killed couple of months ago."

None of this seemed to interest the black-haired man. Thankfully he changed the topic: "What were you trying to do with this stuff?"

"I was instructed to implant those cells into you. And form a midbrain out of them…"

"For what purpose?"

"I'm not sure. Midbrain is where chakra natures are defined in every human… But we never tried anything like this, until now I was only trying to transplant cells, not the chakra proclivities… I guess it's all Kabuto's speculation, or maybe a test…"

Man picked up the dish she dropped and opened it. "What are those cells?"

"No idea. Human. I had a quick look at the nucleus and they are from a male. I was told they are dividing extremely fast…"

Edo Tensei extended his hand over the dish and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, unhealthy fire burned in them.

"And you were supposed to implant them into me? Then do it. It will surely please your master…"

Sakura stared. She might still get away with that.

"But not into my head. I have a place where this tissue would fit much better."

He removed his armor and the undershirt. On his chest a large jagged scar spread on the left pectoral. A wound so large, and so close to the heart – Sakura shook her head. It must have been lethal. He must have died from it. Yet the edges of the wound were healed and the space in the middle was occupied by a different, whitish tissue.

"Right here. I already have some of it there. But I was never able to direct its growth."

He sat on the stool for her. He even held the tray with the scalpels. It was seriously creepy to have a patient assisting in the surgery, but Sakura forced her stomach to stay calm.

She cut his chest open, put the portion of the tissue from the dish into it and superficially closed the wound. Then she focused. Midbrain, midbrain… How should she start? She directed her chakra to the graft.

And almost jumped away at its response. The graft literally came to life. Cells divided, differentiated, moved, arranged and re-arranged. They did everything by themselves, she didn't even have to intervene. It was as watching a fetus developing. Sakura blinked – no, she didn't need an entire organism, she needed only that damn midbrain – she concentrated and pushed the cells toward neurons. They listened! They were already tangling on their own, too quick, too quick. Around the neuronal tissue Sakura felt some cells going into ossification. It cannot form so much! The surface of Edo Tensei's chest bulged and rippled. Something was taking shape - an oval, a protrusion in the middle, inclusion on the sides… A face?

A face.

Sakura removed her hands in shock.

Edo Tensei looked down on his chest and to Sakura's utter surprise he started laughing. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Then he handed her the tray and gently placed his palm on the table. At his touch the wood first cracked and then sprouted a feeble greenish twig. Sakura was too shocked to be surprised anymore.

"Well, that would do, it seems," said the man more to himself than to her. "Now, remove the tag."

Sakura felt how entire blood flown away from her face. "No way," she whispered. "No way…" She took a shaky step back. The moment she pulls out this tag she is dead meat.

The man seemed to be reading her thoughts. "Remove the tag or I will break you neck."

Talk about narrowing her choices. And judging from what he'd already shown he very well could do just that. She needed to bargain with him. "If you kill me you who will remove the tag for you?" she forced her voice to sound confident. It didn't quite work.

"That will be my problem. Because you will be dead. And who knows, maybe I can remove it on my own?"

"Why threaten me then? Why kill me? For what purpose?"

"For disobedience. Remove. The. Tag."

Sakura stood up. Her knees were shaking. Her hands were shaking as well when she formed the seal and retracted the tag from the back of Edo Tensei's head.

And then she was shaking whole and ducking under the table when the barrier seals surrounding the lab cracked and howled and sprung out of their anchorages, ripping chunks of the walls with them. The dust and smell of concentrated ninjutsu was suffocating.

Her eyes were still shut tightly when he dragged her from under the table with a steel grip at her arm.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I'm curious what you thing about this story!


	7. Shadow

**7\. Shadow**

**Rating:** M

 **Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

 **Warnings:** gore

 **Idea/Inspiration:** Toni (not the gore part, of course!)

It was a day like any other. Or rather, a better one than usually. It was his free day. Madara made sure that he did take days off from the Hokage duties. Sakura wouldn't have forgiven him otherwise. Which would manifest in her talking his head off.

So it was one of those days. He was sitting in the inner yard of the house, reading. Or attempting to read, because honestly the sun was just making him close his eyes and doze off.

Sakura was in the other corner of the garden, pruning the fruit trees.

He heard her scream. Not even a full scream. Just the first syllable, the first note of it. Branch scissors hitting the stones sounded already in the absence of Sakura's voice.

Madara jumped on his feet, Sharingan activated before he even fully opened his eyes but he failed to find her. She was gone.

In one pounce he was there where she last stood. Nothing. No drop of blood, no footprints other than hers on the wet soil of the garden.

And absence of Sakura.

Or rather… Something vague, something like her still lingering, but changed, modified… Madara activated his Rinnegan.

She was here. Right next to him. Right there where she last stood, but now enveloped in a sphere of darkness, as if in a shadow in a corporal form. Her face contorted in grimace of fear and pain, her arms twisted unnaturally, yet clearly she was trying to raise them and push against the surface of her prison. She was looking in his direction, looking at him, but it was obvious that she wasn't seeing him. He jumped towards her and reached out. His hands went straight through that shadowed space and grabbed at nothing.

"Sakura!" he called out to her. "Sakura! Can you hear me?!"

Even though the analytical part of his brain knew already it was in vain he tried reaching her again. And again. Each time his fingers were moving through the thin air only. And Sakura failed to make any move that would indicate she realized his attempts.

Stunned, Madara took a step back.

He was very rarely in a position of helplessness. Tilting is head, he tried again, traced his hand over the surface of the sphere that was trapping Sakura, looking for cues, trying to discover what was this thing. Only that there was nothing that would respond to his senses. His fingers met no resistance. If he deactivated Rinnegan he could see his arm going perfectly normally through the space where Sakura stood. With Rinnegan on, he had a double vision of sorts – his hand moving freely and Sakura failing to be influenced by it. No sound reached him from within the shadow, and, judging by Sakura's frantic and confused fight, no sound came in.

Despite of himself he tried again. "Sakura, can you hear me? I'm here, I'm right here. I'm going to get you out."

She didn't hear him. And he had no clue how to make good of this promise.

And then she started to struggle. The blackness inside the sphere got denser and Sakura jerked and thrashed frantically. She tore at the blackness, tried pushing it away from herself. She looked as if she had troubles breathing. Madara never saw her like this – so scared. In pain, yes, many times – she gave birth to his children and he knew that beforehand she used to be an elite shinobi. But he never saw her panicked. And he couldn't do anything against it.

That was a very special kind of hell.

A bird cawed high above his head, a nasty sound, mocking him. He didn't pay any attention.

Until a scroll feel to the middle of the yard. Madara jerked his head up only to see murder of crow circling over the house.

He picked up the scroll. "Don't do anything rash or she will die." Read the first line.

Madara pursed his lips. At least some things had become clearer.

"Behave as if nothing happened. Do not inform anyone. You are being watched."

Madara smirked and glimpsed up. Pretty transparent. And pretty easily removable. Too transparent. There must be something else. He looked around. Other animals? The garden buzzed with insects swarming to blooming trees.

Well, that gave already something out. The controller couldn't be far. You couldn't do mind-control on unrestricted distances.

"Our requests are the following: 1. Start war with Iwa, 2. Eradicate the line of Tsuchikage, 3. Perform Rinne Tensei of the person sealed in this scroll. Do not try anything. We can make her suffer."

He rolled the scroll. He wanted to tear it into shreds, but this was the time to practice self-control. As on a cue, something changed inside the sphere enclosing Sakura and she started to writhe in pain.

So the blackmailer was looking at him directly through the eyes of animals.

Less then 10 kilometers then.

Madara approached the sphere and made a stroking gesture there where Sakura's hair were. His hands touched nothing once again. What was it? A different dimension?

Well, whoever they were, the attackers clearly overestimated themselves. Out of all the emotions Madara felt right now, surprise was currently at the forefront. Utter disbelief at human stupidity.

That pushed a bit to the side the feeling of dread at not being able to currently touch her. And provided an entirely different perspective on the entire event. It was a jutsu. If it had been weaved then it could also be undone. Madara examined the sphere more closely – it wasn't perfectly oval, in contrary to what it seemed at the first glance. There was a thin, almost invisible tendril connecting it to the ground. Connecting it to a shadow cast by one of the grains of gravel. Madara arched his eyebrow. Ingenious. But no amount of ingenuity would save those scum.

Without a need for handseal four Limbo clones stood around him – ghastly, otherworldly copies of himself. Invisible to all save the Senjutsu and Rinnegan users. And wielders of those were rare. Too rare to pose a risk now.

How naïve… How could they be naïve enough to blackmail him? To threaten to harm a person he loved…?

Three clones scattered. With operation radius that small it shouldn't take more than an hour.

With four clones it would have taken even less. But Madara wanted to check something. His fourth Limbo clone approached the sphere. With clenched heart Madara waited for Sakura's another paroxysm of pain to come. If she was struggling, the actions of clone would be less obvious for the spies.

The spasm came. She shook and trashed and it broke his heart into million pieces. But he needed to stay calm. When she doubled in half, he had the clone enter the sphere.

As expected, the Limbo-him could penetrate whatever this thing was. No ninjutsu could hold back entities operating on a different plane.

In a swift maneuver the shadow version of him wrapped its arm around panting heavily Sakura.

"Pretend you don't see me," was what Madara had it say.

He could see Sakura tense – she heard the clone. But the tension in her muscles could get attributed to the pain. His wife with her quick wits and immaculate shinobi training kept her cool and reacted as he expected.

Fighting with the darkness surrounding her she straightened up and didn't make it known that she had now a company in her prison. Some twenty second later she moved as if accidentally so that she was facing his copy.

He didn't know what his clone was saying. For sure that what he would have, had he could. But what Madara could see was how the clone gently stroked Sakura's hair. Standing right next to the sphere he could even see a minute movement of the strands. Nothing that would be visible for an unprepared eye, but a heart-griping proof that his clone was there, was able to touch her, to interact with her. The clone cupped Sakura's face and passed its thumb along her cheekbone. Then down along her nose to her lips, lingering on them. She opened them a tiny little bit and managed a smallest smile.

What a relief.

Sakura played her part, didn't betray clone's presence in any way. Occasionally she tore at the walls of the sphere and choked and doubled whenever the darkness intensified its influence on her, which seemed to be happening at random. And her struggles weren't staged, her suffering was real. But now there was no animalistic panic in her eyes anymore. She knew the help was coming.

He had the Limbo clone stay with her. Even though Madara knew she could handle it, he couldn't bear to leave her there alone.

Not to raise suspicions, he went indoors, into his office, sat at the desk and started to write. A mock plan of troupes' division for the war with Iwa.

No longer than half an hour later the first of the Limbo clones reconnected with him. They found the jutsu caster.

'Jōnin commando of 50 men to approach from the Kannabi river, in order to intercept…" Madara's pen kept moving. It was even, in some way, entertaining.

The second of the clones reconnected. Jutsu has been lifted. Madara sprung up from his chair and ran. In the garden, Sakura's limp body was hanging from the arms of the fourth clone. She seemed unconscious, but when Madara approached she opened her eyes. He stroked her cheek and he was never before so aware of the feel of her skin under his fingertips. He would never take it for granted again. Never again.

"Keep her in the sun," he told to his clones. "In the air. Don't let her come in contact with any shadows."

Then it was easy. Too easy almost.

Jutsu caster was kept under a genjutsu by the third clone.

Madara entered his camp. A lot of fuinjutsu, high class ones, Uzumaki clan-style. Someone worked long and hard for this mission. But they were no use against him. With glee he stepped on the intricate ink pattern. The stained grains of sand pushed deeper into the ground.

The jutsu caster was there – unconscious yet held upwards by his Limbo clone. Madara dispelled the genjutsu. He wanted the man to be by all his mental faculties.

With unbridled pleasure he grabbed the man's neck. His fingers dug into his throat. Sure, he could use a kunai. But he didn't feel like. Push hard enough and also fingers would go through skin. And through tendons. They always do. And they did now.

Slickness. Blood. Madara tightened his grip and searched blindly for the man's windpipe. There it was – a slippery, thin, slightly pulsating tube. For a moment he just squeezed and enjoyed the feeling. His clone held the man firmly by the hair. His legs were kicking but he was airborn and none of his kicks were effectual. Neither were the hits he tried to place with the bleeding stumps of his arms. His eyes were bulged, full of panic like that of an animal led to the slaughter. Or rather the one slowly being ripped by predators, being eaten while still alive. Or of even greater panic. Animals were blessed with the relative simplicity of their brains. Only 'a now' existed for them. They couldn't imagine the future.

Madara grinned. A man, a highly developed being. With a brain capable of abstract thinking - despite of what his blackmail attempt might suggest. A man that could live through all the fear.

Oh, what a magnificent feeling to have access to Mangekyō. He can both inflict months of torture on this scum and have the satisfaction of smearing his existing away from the surface of the earth right away.

"I will kill you… I will rip out your windpipe and leave you to drown in your own blood. But don't think you'll escape me that quickly." Madara licked his lips. "Tsukuyomi," he said rolling the word on his tongue. Under his closed eyelids on a black-and-red plane spread wide. The man screamed as he was ripped in four by the horses, pushed on pikes, gutted like pig. Over and over again. Over and over again the horses ran, black and red and wild.

Madara opened his eyes. And ripped his hand out of man's throat. A slick reddish tube dangled from his closed fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and I'm curious about your thoughts!


	8. Sound of Silence

**8\. Sound of Silence**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

**Idea/Inspiration:** yomi-gaeru

* * *

He couldn't see anything. Which was understandable, his eyes were gone. He knew the feeling, that strange hollowness under the eyelids, that sensation of them falling inside the skull once he clenched his eyes tighter.

But he couldn't hear as well. And that was puzzling. And, he had to admit, a bit unsettling.

He wasn't dead. The pain was a proof good enough for that. And even if there was a hell in the afterlife, then this pain wasn't enough for hell's standards. A dull, vibrating pain but nothing that would make Madara scream. And he could distinguish that he was lying flat on his back, on something relatively soft. Madara tried moving his arms – tied down. Legs as well. Even his neck was immobilized with a collar.

Someone had taken precautions.

He attempted to mold his chakra next – well, of course – it had been blocked. Only to be expected. Well, that left him with relatively few options. He could try breaking restraints free with pure physical force – which should be difficult as his captors apparently were professionals – or outwit them.

Madara didn't remember anything after the betrayal of that black scum apart from the most dreadful sensation of being torn apart by excess of chakra. He assumed he must have had lost his consciousness directly afterwards.

So… where could he be now?

Under him was a bed – he could feel its edge with the tips of his fingers. Air was dry and warm – he was indoors. He felt warmth on his right cheek and right palm – could it be that it was sunlight?

Oh, if he had his hearing it would have been so much easier! He had no orientation in space and he wasn't sure if he would notice anybody approaching. Very rarely in his life Madara felt defenseless and he was coming to the conclusion that it was one of those times.

But the touch to his forehead didn't catch him by a total surprise. Some part of his brain registered a miniscule air movement before fingers touched the skin of his face. Still, not being prepared, he jerked. And caught himself examining his reaction. Fear. It was how fear felt like. Interesting to experience it once again, it had been a while.

Madara concentrated on the hand touching him. Soft fingers. From the spacing of them he back-calculated that they must have belonged to a small hand. A woman then.

He felt her chakra invading his pathways – he braced himself for some mind-walking jutsu or torture, but chakra only snaked around in his system. Invasive and disturbing but not directly painful. What was she doing? Interrogation would have been straightforward and expected; a virtually painless technique was far more suspicious. Madara jerked and strained his muscles to break the restrains. He honestly thought he would bid his time and evaluate the situation better but there was no time for that. Whatever it was that she was doing, he didn't want it to continue.

A second hand splayed on his chest. Firmly. He felt movement above him and a whiff of warm, moist air. A breath? Did she say something? The silence surrounding him was driving him insane.

And the restraints held.

Madara took a deep breath. They had him well. Whatever happened to him after Zetsu's betrayal, had weakened him severely.

He needed to negotiate. What should he say? He had to turn the situation so that he would have an upper hand. A bit of a challenge given the circumstances.

"It would be smart of you to release me," he said. "I might spare your life if you do."

Another breath of warm air, longer this time. Whoever the person was, decided on interacting with. Maybe she didn't know to what the extend he had been incapacitated. Still, he couldn't make a sovereign impression if he would babble nonsense in response.

"Whatever it is that you're saying woman, I cannot hear you. Remove the seal from my ears."

Two hands touched his temples, but the silence remained. It actually only increased, if it was even possible – now he was hearing strange ringing noises. It must have been his brain, deprived of sensations, that was producing those illusions.

But at least she withdrew her chakra from his system and she left soon afterwards.

That was one properly frustrating encounter.

It turned out that she came to see him regularly; he was almost certain it was the same woman. He learned to recognize her smell.

He also learned how to recognize the woman coming and leaving. Her clothing – he came to believe she was wearing a coat – at least that was how he was imagining it – was making air move when she was standing up. There were also subtle vibrations to be felt when she was walking, and the closing of the door also made some impact.

The food that she fed him wasn't poisoned nor spiked with anything and she was really skilled in making him not to choke, despite him lying flat. He suspected that she was making the soft morsels of that undesript stuff he was given to eat move with help of her chakra.

Apart from that chakra-examination that she repeated twice he wasn't put into any form of interrogation or used in any way. Madara was coming to conclusion that his fate was hanging on a political decision. Probably good couple of people needed to come to agreement about what to do with him. He hoped they were all arrogant, convinced about their self-importance and confrontative. Nevertheless, he had to hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think!


	9. Mirror, Mirror

**9\. Mirror, Mirror**

**Rating:** E

 **Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

 **Warning** : Explicit sexual content

 **Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

"Mmm, I wish I could see it the way you do..." murmured Sakura when he propped her legs wider and grazed fingertips along her folds.

"See what?"

"How does it look down there when we..."

Madara stopped exploring her and froze.

"Oh nothing, just forget it! Forget what I said!" Sakura waved her hands in front of her and turn her head away. Not that examining the patterns on the wall was particularly interesting, but she didn't have courage to look him in the eye after that little lapse of hers.

Madara propped himself up from his lying position and grabbed her chin making her look at him. She was straddling his lap, or rather, his upper legs, exactly the way that gave him the full view on her nether parts. He liked it this way.

She escaped with her eyes lower. A futile attempt, he just leaned and again he was peeking into her eyes.

"I've heard it. I'm not going to forget it. You so rarely say what you want."

"Yeah, well, but better forget this one because it's just stupid," announced Sakura and shifted closer to him. Her womanhood came into contact with his warmth, she could feel the distinctive shape of his erection against herself. She leaned down, pressing against his chest to make him lie down again. She propped herself on the elbow on the side of his head and nibbled at his earlobe simultaneously wrapping her fingers around him – all in hopes of distracting him. An inhale - she was succeeding. Sakura dipped her tongue into his ear-shell and basked in glee when she felt a shudder.

"So, about what you've said," Madara spoke in the most even of tones. As if a completely naked woman wasn't straddling him with her mouth attached to his ear and her hand around his cock. "I don't think it's stupid at all."

Sakura stiffened. "No, forget it, I don't even... I'm not even sure if I would really like it even if it was possible. It's not exactly a pretty place," Sakura forced out a laughter.

"First of all - it is very much possible... You can find out if you like it or not. And secondly," he nibbled at her neck, "I quite enjoy looking at it..." Sakura felt the furious crimson blush flooding her cheeks. Madara traced light pecks along her jaw until he found her lips. "So?" he asked between the kisses. "Should I bring," another kiss, this time with his tongue sliding into her mouth. "A mirror?"

Sakura couldn't really answer much save for incoherent and a bit alarmed mewling because just in the time interval that would normally be occupied with her reply, he captured her lips again, and to make it even worse wound his hand around her behind and reached her opening. He wasn't playing fair, but why was she even surprised. He rarely was.

He broke the kiss and left her a bit breathless. Especially as his finger was still making small circles inside her. "Then it's a yes, isn't it?"

Sakura wiggled. "It's a maybe. But it's a maybe that needed a lot of courage, so appreciate it."

"I appreciate it." He grabbed her by the waist and prompted her to climb off him. Feeling very alone and very naked, even though the bedroom was familiar and not big at all, Sakura hid under the blanket. It was warmer there. Nothing turned her off more than being cold. To keep herself in the mood she covered her mound with her palm and started to press. Rhythmically but gently, just a tiny little bit until he returned.

He came back in no time - she didn't manage to cool off in any way. But he came back carrying none the less but the biggest mirror in the house - the one from the entrance hall. Sakura blanched - she was expecting a hand mirror. Staying under the covers suddenly seemed like a very good option.

"Do you really think I won't find you there?" asked Madara lifting the corner of the blanket. "Come out... Else how will you see anything? Or how will I for that matter?"

"In front of that? No way!"

Madara, unphased by her horror, calmly placed the mirror against the wall opposite the longer side of the bed.

"It will slide and fall and break, and then we will have to clean the glass from the entire floor and gods forbid from the bed as well," sputtered Sakura.

Madara lowered his palm to the floor - the wood bulged and formed a step, a hindrance keeping the mirror next to the wall, leaned against it at an admittingly safe angle. "It won't."

He sat at the edge of the bed, close, but not entering her personal space in any way. Sakura peeped from under the covers. It was interesting to see him from the both sides in the same time - his backside facing her, and his front reflected in the mirror. She crawled out and cuddled to his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him. She was almost completely hidden from that huge intrusive presence of the mirror - only if she peeked from behind his shoulder, she would see the reflection of the upper part of her face. A little hide-and-seek she could play with herself. Sakura giggled at the idea. And snaked her arm around Madara's waist to give his cock couple of pumps.

"Mm, almost correctly," he murmured. "We just need to switch places and..." He turned so swiftly that she didn't have time to react. He grabbed her at the waist and pulled her in front of himself, between his open legs. Sakura squeaked in a mix of surprise, protest and indignation. But somehow shame wasn't really there anymore. She was feeling a bit too giddy to be ashamed.

Madara sucked at the side of her neck. She would have a hickey tomorrow! And she didn't even like it! She preferred gentler kisses.

But that was only a distraction - she should have known! As she was occupied with Madara's mouth on her neck, he pushed her knees apart. "Take a look..." he nudged her head in the directions of the mirror.

She kind of knew what to expect. She knew how a woman looked down there, but hers was a very singular kind of experience - as a mission medic she was never present at deliveries, and gynecological exams were not part of post- and pre-mission checkups she conducted. And, most importantly, she never before saw herself so... well... swollen. And glistening. It was even less pretty than it normally was.

Sakura instinctively closed her legs. "I don't like it."

"You don't like what?"

"How I look there. I... I still have this notion that I want to be pretty. Maybe in a different way than it was when I was a girl, but I still want my body to be attractive. And that just... isn't. It's not aesthetically appealing."

Madara laughed. "You have really strange expectations. Never for a second have I considered if this part of you is aesthetically pleasing or not."

Sakura furrowed her brows. "But you said you like it… You said you enjoyed looking there..."

"Because I do. It is exciting. It doesn't have to be pretty like a dollhouse to be hell of an arousing view." He kissed her neck again. "It makes me so hard to watch you there... Whenever I do, I just want to plunge into you and spread you and reach as deep as if can." As to prove his words. Madara reached to her opening and spread her lips wider. "Hold it this way."

That giddy feeling was back. And Madara's erection against her backside was only making her higher on endorphins. She shifted her legs apart letting his finger sink inside of her and disappear. Something in Sakura's belly tightened.

"Okay... okay… Maybe I want to see it happen..." She wiggled, allowing Madara more room to get from behind of her, but he didn't react. "Let's do it! I think I'm very ready..."

But he only grabbed her at the waist and moved his hands to her breast. "As the lady demands..."

Sakura just wanted to protest at his lack of cooperation when she felt another set of hands, this time on her calves. Cold hands. She jerked and kicked in blind panic. Because it was only the touch, there was nothing in front of her.

Madara grabbed her under the arms and held her to his chest. "Shhhh... That's just my Limbo Clone..."

Sakura relaxed but only minutely so. "What the heck? That horrible thing from the war? Why? And why didn't you tell me anything?"

Cold hands were still on her thighs, but they weren't moving.

Sakura tried to shake them off. "It scared me to death! And it scares me still!"

"I thought that it could be more useful than a normal shadow clone..."

"Useful? I'm afraid of this thing! I don't even know how it looks like! Does it even look like anything?"

"It looks like exactly like me. Exactly. Like every other well-made clone. And since it is invisible to you, you will be able to see right through it..."

Cold hands moved. Traveled up to her knees, up her thighs. Madara spread her again and then she felt it – a solid form against her core. A solid form where she could only see thin air.

Madara's mouth was again on her pulse point. The cold form – a body, she should think about it as of a body, Sakura reminded herself – was now pressed against her entire front. She forced her hands to move forward. It was a body. Back, shoulders. Arms… Sakura slid her hands down the back of the clone. Familiar. If there was a difference, would she be able to tell it only through the touch? Surely this one in front of her didn't feel any different under her hands than the one behind her.

Before she could deliberate on this issue more, her lips were captured in a kiss. She instinctively clenched her eyes shut only to blink them open again. There was nothing in front of her, nothing that would make her eyes close at too close proximity. Instead she saw herself in the mirror, as if sharing a kiss with an imaginary lover. For a split of second she wondered if that was how she looked like when she was a little girl practicing kissing with her imaginary Sasuke.

The kiss broke abruptly. Confused, Sakura looked forwards, into the mirror. Madara held her firmly, covering her breasts with his hands, kneading them roughly.

Something prodded at her entrance.

"Look now," murmured Madara directly into her ear. Shivers went along Sakura's spine.

Sakura looked. Watched how she parted at the pressure, how she gave way, how she accepted that what was entering her. And since what plunged into her wasn't even visible, she could see herself, only herself. A breathy wail escaped her lips and her eyes rolled back.

"Keep looking."

The clone in front of her was now completely inside, she could feel him all the way in, the way she felt Madara each time they made love. Or fucked.

The clone moved, slowly and sensually, it seemed to her. So, love-making it will be, it seemed.

The clone caught her lips again, slowly rocking in and out of her. Madara behind her added to the sensations by caressing her breasts and nibbling at that tickly-pleasurable point at the junction of the neck and shoulder. Sakura closed her eyes. Who cared how the whole scene looked, if she was feeling just too good.

Madara also didn't seem to be that hell-bent on this watching thing anymore. Sakura felt his erection against her butt crack, as he tried moving his hips to get some friction in the rhythm of the clone's thrusts. Securing herself somewhat with a hold around the clone's neck, Sakura reached behind with her other hand to find Madara's cock. But in this strange position all she could do was to stroke him ineffectually.

"And what about you?" she asked liberating herself from the lips of the clone and glimpsing back.

"Don't want to ruin your fun." Madara kissed the left side of her neck, while from the strange cold sensation to her right side of it, Sakura assumed that the clone mirrored his movements.

"You won't. I would prefer you, in fact."

"Hmmm… But this view," he nodded towards the mirror, "is quite a unique opportunity. I'd rather endure some discomfort for its sake."

"Well, you could… As well…"

"As well?"

"Like… in the same time…"

In the mirror she saw Madara's eyebrow travelling up. Sakura burst with laughter – finally she managed to baffle him. She never would expect such a daring from herself, but the way two bodies nestled her from both sides was so stimulating. Giving her all kind of ideas, putting all kinds of scenarios into her head. Even if one body wasn't visible… In meantime she had traced all the planes of clone's body and verified that it was just like Madara, down to the scar at the middle back and mane of hair that she was tickling her around the shoulders.

The clone changed the angle and hit a perfect spot inside her.

"Are you sure?" asked Madara. How much was he controlling the clone and how much of its own volition did it have? Naruto's shadow clones were pretty willful, but this one seemed to be like an extension of Madara's mind. As if to punctuate her conclusion, the clone hit just the right spot inside her again. "It might be a bit much for you…"

Oh, but she won't be dissuaded so easily, even though the clone was doing his best to be very convincing. Sakura just couldn't unsee how Madara's eyes gleamed at her idea. "Oh, I think today I can manage anything." She squirmed, pushing the clone away. The sudden emptiness felt sad. Oh, how her body wanted to be touched right there again… But that wouldn't do. "Just come first in here." She raised herself up and palmed at Madara's cock, guiding him inside of her. At this angle he didn't reach where the clone had, to this beautiful, most perfect place, but still, the consciousness that it was Madara who was inside of her now made up for the lack. Sakura glimpsed into the mirror. Now she preferred the view. She preferred to see how he disappears in her, how they join. As the previous view was clinical and admittingly arousing in its bizarreness, this one was just... love. She didn't care as much for the sensation as she did for having him inside of her. Joined hands of Madara and the Limbo clone on her waist helped her move, raised her up and down repeatedly. She could just keep doing that, she didn't even care much if she would finish this way or not.

But she had a project here, her man to entertain, as he before entertained and indulged her. Enough was enough. Sakura raised herself off Madara completely. The emptiness didn't feel good. She maneuvered so that her back entrance came into contact with the tip of his cock. She stroked down and slid her fingers along his cock – all slick from her juices, it always astonished her how much of it could there be.

"Don't rush it." Madara wound his arms around her, snuggling her to his chest, making her lean on him. He quickly licked his finger and wiggled it inside. They had done it before, Sakura knew what to expect, yet each time this first touch felt weird. Now more arousing than invasive, but weird all the same. The haunting feeling of emptiness intensified.

"That's fine already." She wanted to feel him inside again. She could handle him. She could handle both of them.

Madara retracted his fingers and joined her hand when she guided him inside. The very first moment of parting of her body was always so intense. There was always a resistance that needed to be broken. Madara moved slowly, but even minute jolt of his hips felt enormous now. Sakura made a deep, deliberate exhale and sank lower. She felt anchored, immobilized almost, as if permanently attached to him. The view of her body being penetrated, there were it wasn't really yielding, added to the sensation.

Madara lied back and propped her into half sitting, half-lying position. The clone, who must have stayed away for a while, now was over her again – her knees were pressed to her sides and a heavy weight was on her. A heavy weight she always associated with love-making. Sakura bend one of her hands to sink her fingers into Madara's hair, while with the other one she circled around the clone's neck. She pulled him closer. Was Madara feeling that what the clone was? Or would the memories be transferred to the original only once the clone was released? The precise control Madara had over it was suggesting the former…

Either the way, it will return to him one way or another.

Sakura tilted her head and, finding the base of the clone's skull with her fingers, led him to her lips. His mouth felt cold, as did his tongue but still she was grateful for something sealing her lips when another cock entered her. Despite herself she tried arching and bending away – yet there was no _away_ – they were on both sides of her. Sakura mentally berated herself – she should exercise all the tension out of her body, only this way it would work.

Moving her fingers through the hair, both the visible that she couldn't see and the invisible in front of her she lulled herself into calmness.

"Alright?" asked Madara.

Sakura murmured a confirmation. Normally she would just move to signalize her readiness but now all her movements were constricted. With her legs up and Madara's chest for the entire support, she had no anchorage, nothing to propel herself against. "Alright," she said, "Just move."

Madara moved first. She felt him with every centimeter of her body, so little space was there inside of her. He retreated and then the clone moved deeper. Sakura timed her breaths – each time the clone entered her it was easy, it was almost normal. There was a space for air in her, so it was the time for an inhale. When Madara was pushing in, she _had to_ exhale. She let them rock her, she let them set the rhythm and just move her, handle her. Not that in this particular moment she could do much more, but she _let_ them mentally. There was something oddly comforting about being in Madara's hands.

The speed increased a notch, and Sakura's breathing technique wasn't working that well anymore. But the pleasure was blooming from everywhere, she couldn't pinpoint its source, and lack of air didn't seem very relevant at this moment.

Sakura made an odd sound, it echoed loud and clear, unmuffled by clone lips. Because it had long stopped kissing her and was now looming somewhere above her. For a brief moment she wondered if its face expression was like that of Madara, and then immediately regretted not seeing Madara's face now. But the pounding quickly broke her train of thoughts.

Another noise got forced out of her. A strange noise fitting this strange pleasure nothing like she'd ever felt before.

And then they changed the rhythm. It caught her by surprise. Simultaneously they both slammed inside her and she screamed. It felt unreal, so intense, almost too much. Thrusts resonated with her insides, reached deeper, reached somehow more. She was so close, yet this was so intense that she couldn't focus. Sakura snaked her hand to her front. They rammed again and again, when should she breath, and how could her body even handle this assault? She never though there was so much space inside of her, yet now it was all filled.

Throwing her head back, Sakura pressed at her clit, futily searching the release of pleasure that kept pooling and circling inside of her, not wanting to nucleate. The pace of all three of them grew frantic, she could feel Madara's skin getting clammy and his breathing fast. He was going to come soon. Good, because she wasn't sure for how long she could still manage it. If Madara was close, then what about the clone? It changed the angle and now was almost lying on her. Was that an indication of an approaching finish?

She felt a cold hand roughly grabbing at her shoulder, grounding her. A split second later with terrible push the clone bottomed out and stilled inside her for a split of second. The emptiness that followed almost made Sakura howl.

"Why did you disperse him?"

"Because he was about to come," managed Madara between the grunts. "And it would trigger me to finish as well."

"Ugh, then why not to?"

"I want _you_ to trigger me. Your ending."

"I.. I don't know if I can manage at all… Now I feel so… empty and exposed."

"Empty?" asked Madara and accentuated his question with deep thrust. Almost too deep. She should have known better. She glimpsed into the mirror in front of her. The view was pretty obscene – there were she wasn't spread open and dripping, there she was impaled. Madara circled his arm around her and dipped two fingers in her channel. "Better?"

"A bit…"

"Alright," he said, clearly prompted by her lack of enthusiasm. He removed his fingers and pulled out of her. "Let's make it much better."

He flipped her on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pushing it under her bum in one swift motion. She opened her legs for him and let him fill her, her rear entrance receiving him with no resistance. And then she just couldn't take eyes off him - how he moved, how he snapped his hips and tensed his muscles working her, and how he just… fucked her. She didn't even need her own hand – the pleasure circling inside her focused into a pinpoint and exploded.

Seeing his face expression when his finish followed moments later was almost as good as the orgasm.

Breathing heavily, still sheathed in her, Madara moved her leg and rolled to the side behind her. In the mirror she could see how this minute, minimal smile crept on his lips as he was hiding his face in her nape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... How did you like it? ;)


	10. Dirty

**10\. Dirty**

**Rating:** M

 **Verse:** Modern!AU

 **Warning:** making slight fun of Madara-sama... Don't read if you're afraid of his wrath!

 **Idea/Inspiration:** yomi-gaeru 

* * *

"I dare you to do it!"

"Ino, you know I hate those idiotic challenges! We are both adult and we don't need to play such juvenile games. He doesn't have to prove anything to me. He won't find it amusing and neither will I!"

"Oh, come on, Forehead! Don't be so stiff! Since you've started dating him you aged good ten years!"

"I didn't age! In his company I just could finally start acting how I always wanted to! But never had the chance before!"

"Either the way," Ino waved her hand dismissively, "You've become such a bore. Do you even remember how we pranked TenTen into believing that Lee has hots for her? Or how we've put chilli inside muffins Hanabi brought to school for her birthday?"

"I do. Those were all your ideas. And they were innocent jokes in comparison to what you're proposing now."

"Just admit that you are afraid to learn his secrets. Come on, a grown-up man, he has life you have no idea about, he has past you have no idea about… You are just scared, that's it! You are afraid that he has dirty secrets and you are simply a coward." Ino punctuated the end of her statement with a stomp of her heel.

"No! I don't think Madara has anything to hide! I just think it is a huge breach of trust to manipulate someone this way! And this is the end of this conversation."

"Fine! Then I won't tell you what Sai told me when I got him on the hook."

"Then don't! I couldn't care less!"

On her way home Sakura watched every top-ranking video of the trend. Some were cute with a guy suddenly proposing or announcing his love. Some were plainly awful. Sakura half-wondered if some weren't staged.

Nevertheless, Ino's words rang in her ears.

Indeed – what did she really know about Madara? She knew that he worked in a bank, she didn't even quite know his exact position. Something about Strategic Investments and being very high-up. She didn't understand what it meant. She always found money a profoundly boring topic. Enough money was important that you live without direct worries, more than that was just… unnecessary. She never dreamed about being rich, investment of capital was not a topic that was crossing her mind too often. Or ever. And her 'enough' had been already achieved - Sakura had very small needs. She didn't shop (ok, except for the books, and those university-level books _were_ expensive), she didn't go out much, she preferred to spend her holidays at her grandmother's house… Once she becomes a doctor, she will maybe think about buying some small flat and that will be it.

Well, that used the plan until half a year ago, until she met Madara. He was immediately very serious about their relationship, and so was she, somewhat by extension. But seriousness of their relationship suited Sakura - she never liked playing around. So probably she should adjust her long-term plans to Madara's presence in her life, because his was the presence to last.

But what did she know about him? She followed quite well the interpersonal relationships at his work: his friendship with Hashirama – whom she even met twice – such a lovely and funny guy! His love-hate with Hashirama's brother, whom she didn't meet, and according to Madara never would because 'he didn't want to look at that scum's face for a minute longer than it was necessary.' Still, she had to laugh when she realized that Madara's penchant for using the public transport (quite puzzling given his financial status) was connected to Tobirama owning several super expensive, super exclusive cars. It seemed that Madara found a perfect way of besting his adversary – not through upping him in the extravagance of the cars, but rather through persistent rubbing into his face his own communing to work by bus and the moral superiority of that. Which, by the way, didn't hold Madara back from owning several motorcycles. But Sakura assumed Tobirama didn't _know_ about the motorcycles.

She was a frequent guest in Madara's house, a very frequent and overnighting one, in fact. They talked a lot about her, about her studies, her plans, her social circle, as wells as about general things, like their worldviews, the books they read, the current world affairs and such. They spent a lot of time in comfortable silence, each reading their own book. But indeed, they rarely spoke about Madara's life.

Sakura drummed her fingers against the window of the bus. Should she?

It started to haunt her. Such an easy trick. She knew already the lines by heart. _"I know what you did, so you can as well admit it!"_ All the girls in the videos were saying. _"Just admit it already!"_ they screamed at their boyfriends.

If Madara and her were as serious as she thought they were, then this question shouldn't change anything. Either he truly didn't have anything to hide, or what he hid wasn't going to upset her.

"Madara," she fired one day when he was just about to make them some tea to get cozy on the sofa. "I... I actually know already what you did. So you can as well admit it."

Not stopping to pour the water into the electric kettle, he looked at her without much emotion in his eyes. Emotions rarely showed in his eyes anyway. It was rather from his gestures, from his body posture that she could read them, if at all.

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Don't pretend. I know it already…" murmured Sakura feeling greater and greater distress. What if he had some horrible secrets?! What if he was a mafia-boss in disguise?! What if he was an assassin for hire?! She wanted to slap herself for those ridiculous scenarios. But what if he had a wife and a bunch of kids? What if he didn't love her at all? "Just tell me the truth…"

Madara put down the kettle on the table not switching it on. Sakura felt those needles of fear piercing the back of her palms. So, he did have something to hide. She tried blinking her tears away even though she was sure they had already shown. "Just tell me. I prefer to hear it from you than to leave it like this. Admitting makes a world of a difference." She wasn't going to lose him. Whatever his secret was.

Ok, maybe not if he was a mafia boss. Then she needed to seriously reconsider.

"You think so?"

"Yes," nodded Sakura with all seriousness. "And I want to hear it from you."

"I can explain."

"Oh, I bet you can…"

"This merger that I am supervising. It is a nightmare. Simply a nightmare. Believe me, I did that stuff a lot, but such a pack of jackals as the Board of Directors of this shitty little company is, I have never seen in my life. And Tobirama is pressing me to finalize the deal before the end of the quartal." Madara rubbed his forehead. "Maybe I'm getting too old for this. Maybe my killing instincts are no longer there. But I don't enjoy this in the slightest. Sometimes I just want to slam everything and run away. But I know I cannot. And you… you bring me such peace. In your presence I feel so relaxed, so at ease. Like with no one else, ever before. The knowledge that I can come to your place after the entire day, and we will lie down, and make love or not, and we won't be in any hurry anywhere… It helps me get through the day. That's why I took it. So that it reminds me of you."

"Took what?" Sakura forgot the part she was supposed to play, but thankfully, Madara didn't notice.

"Your underwear."

Right. She couldn't find those panties with blue flower-pattern in the last laundry, while she would have sworn, she had worn them the previous week. Sakura blanched.

"You stole my dirty underpants?"

"Well, I didn't steal it… Just borrowed? I would have returned them to you."

"No matter! But dirty underwear?! Why?!"

"It wasn't dirty. Just used. Enough to smell with you."

"Because you… smell it?" Sakura couldn't believe.

"Sometimes," Madara's eyes escaped to the side. "Does it bother you very much?"

Sakura chewed on her lip. Did it? "No. Actually not. I was afraid that you will reveal something horrible, and that is actually really sweet. In some way. In a weird way. I mean, I still find it odd and I cannot quite understand, but if you like it… Then I guess it's fine… And you know what?" She searched his eyes. "You can keep them." Hmm, maybe it wasn't the most correct and loving answer she could provide in this situation… She should try better than that. "Or why don't you give them back to me, and maybe you'll find something else in your briefcase tomorrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the most light-hearted so far. How did you like it?


	11. The Stars

**11\. The Stars**

**Rating:** M

**Verse:** TLOS-Verse

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

"Look up."

"What's there?"

"Oh, nothing… Just look up."

The starry night was overwhelming. Starlight poured and rained down on him. After misty and wet month, a chilly, frosty one came. Nothing he was accustomed to from Land of Fire. No, wrong. Nothing he was accustomed to from their world.

Still, he enjoyed it. The evenings were crisp and air was dry and so transparent. So perfectly transparent as if the air was nonexistent.

After tense couple of weeks, with the tribe slowly accepting them, and they on their side doing everything to successfully blend in, and never step out of societal rules, Sakura deemed it safe enough to separate from the group. Madara almost sighed with relief when he heard that. After the entire life on solitude those permanent close quarters were a torture. Especially the jinchuuriki was a headache. He sought out contact all the time. Madara didn't know if that was how he was, or if it was caused by the sudden emptiness after the loss of the beast. Either the way – he was such a nuisance.

And that constant care put into learning the rules of the community, constant being on the lookout for cues and stepping away whenever he crossed some damn invisible line… But they needed to get through that stage. For the sake of Sakura. And for her sake he would endure it.

Still, when she proposed going away for the night, he couldn't be happier.

They didn't sleep with each other since they got here. Sakura's teammates were call the time around, and so were other people. Not that it bothered those other people. He saw pairs going at it just a bit aside from the communal camp fire, and everyone seemed to almost ignore it. It disgusted him. They were really like animals.

The tents seemed to belong to a family group, but defined in a different way he would define a family. Apparently they belong to women that seemed related to each other and men who were their brothers. Or at least they weren't having sexual relations with each other. Well, at least not by the camp fire. Who knew what happened in these tents…

Getting a tent on their own was currently very high on Madara's to do list. As far as he could realize, one of those huge, hairy, tusked animals needed to be killed for the hide. Maybe even two or three of them… He wondered how would such a hunt go. Would he need to take the animal down himself to claim the hide? Or was it a group effort and then the tribe decided about the repurposing the prey's parts? He surely hoped they would get a place to sleep separately before the winter because he was fantasizing about strangulating the snoring jinchuuriki on weekly basis. And he would very much appreciate some privacy with Sakura from time to time. When they were about to lie together moments ago he realized he had almost forgotten how she felt around him.

Now he could remember it again. She felt wonderful.

She was now sitting curled between his legs; he was trying to wrap both the furs and his arms around her the best he could to keep her warm and prevent her from dressing up again. He wanted to feel her skin against his. Warm skin, warmed by their lovemaking, warmed by him.

"Look at them," Sakura wiggled in his embrace, "just look how beautiful they are."

He saw the sky, and what jumped at him was the lack of dimension entries. They were with him for last four years, non-stop, whenever he took time to look around. Of course, on the daily basis, he didn't keep the Mangkyo on, normal Sharingan more than sufficed. But he wasn't spending time admiring the views either.

"They are," he answered. "They are."

"And there are so many of them! In Konoha I never saw so many!"

"That's because there are no artificial lights here."

"But I've never seen such a sky during the missions, and we camped a lot outside…"

"That's probably the climate. Or maybe there are simply more stars here…"

"Can it even be?"

"Who knows?"

Sakura nestled closer to him unintentionally rubbing her behind against his crotch, and he felt that he could possibly be ready for a second round.

"Well, I think it's because of the Moon," continued Sakura. "It doesn't shine as bright as ours and thats why the stars stand out more. Don't you think the moon here is smaller than ours? Or rather that maybe it is… further away…?"

"That might be. Our moon was created by Hagoromo and Homura. It was very close, it had to be. There was entire Homura clan actually living on its surface… Or at least that's what the tales say."

"Hmmm…" murmured Sakura and molded more into him. Now he was definitely ready for the second round. He moved his hand towards her breast, but Sakura had another preoccupation. "Look there!" She jumped up pointing above and she almost rammed her head into his nose. "That constellation! It looks like our Shuriken! The first constellation I've learned to recognize! Let's name it this way! It will be something to remind me of home…"

He could only nod, when she turned again and almost toppled him.

"And there! Don't you think it looks a bit like the symbol of Takigakure? Let's call it The Waterfall!?"

"Alright." Star formations weren't his main focus now as Sakura was half-lying on him.

"And there! It looks like, like… Wait, I have it on the tip of my tongue…"

"I'm sure you'll remember it later," he said grabbing her waist and dragging her so that she was straddling him. The furs slid down but he managed to grab them and pull them over her shoulders like a heavy, massive cape. Her wet heat was right against his cock.

"But I almost have it! What was its name? The Scroll? Yes, I think it was The Scroll… Or..."

She would be distracted for as long as she saw the sky, Madara was sure of that by now. That wouldn't do. He flipped her so that she was lying on her stomach and held her down by the neck.

"Hey!" protested Sakura struggling in his grip. "I just saw another…"

"Later. Those stars will be there all night… Now close your eyes and let's make you see different ones," he moved her legs so that her behind lifted a bit while pushing her face deeper into the furs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope that snippet of post-TLOS was enjoyable... Please tell me what you think!


	12. Holding Hands

**12\. Holding Hands**

**Rating:** M

**Verse:** Warring Clans Era AU

**Warning:** Sadness, angst and maybe a bit of gore

**Idea/Inspiration:** video by victoriacapo (link on my tumblr)

* * *

Sakura stirred. Everything hurt so horribly.

Something was crushing her, turning her head to the side at a painful angle. Her hands were trapped under something as well. With effort, she tore the left one free and pushed at that thing. It was somewhat soft, yet stiff, and covered with fabric, like… like... Like a human body. What was crushing her down was a person. But why wouldn't he move? Sakura pressed harder. Her chakra was completely used up, she was left only with her muscles.

She liberated herself enough to turn her head and look up. She didn't see much – all was dark, save some faint moonlight. Her left eye wasn't functional. It was open, Sakura would swear, but there was only blackness in it. And pain.

Shit.

But her eye could wait. First, she needed to liberate herself from under… from under…

… the pile of corpses. Blind panic washed over her and Sakura struggled frantically. No plan, not a smudge of clear thought, only panic. She pulled at the clothing of the man over her. Two of her fingernails lodged in his chainmail and tore off. Too frenzied to registered it she struggled further. Something fell on her face and she couldn't breathe! A horrible weight was blocking her legs, the more she pulled the bigger the strain on her ankle was – it will break, it will break!

Breathe.

Breathe.

You are alive. They are not.

You don't need to escape. They won't do anything to you. Not anymore.

Sakura strained her eyes. The man over her was wearing a foreign armor. The one she was laying on – had a fur collar, she could feel it under her cheek. He was one of her own people.

And as much as none of the dead could hurt her, she couldn't help anyone anymore.

Sakura wiggled her arm. Something was wrong with it as well – it hurt awfully whenever her clothing brushed against the skin.

Sakura pushed the panic to the back of her head. Later. She will deal with it later. Now she had to get OUT.

With both hands finally free, she managed to lift her body and wiggle her torso. Her left leg wouldn't move, but when she turned her hip, and it made the entire leg twist a bit and her foot got dislodged. One more push and she was free.

Exhausted, Sakura collapsed on the same heap of corpses that a moment ago threatened to suffocate her.

When she woke up the sun was already high.

Sakura's consciousness short-circuited. Battle! There was a battle.

Or rather a slaughter.

They were ambushed, and that by ninja again. Even the first time, when it was just regular bandits, the overwhelming numbers and superior weapons (seriously how come this land had so much metal that even the common brigands could afford it in amounts to make it rain from the sky?) inflicted severe losses onto her people.

Her mother died during the first assault. A slash of a blade to her abdomen, Sakura found out when it was over. She, herself, was fighting, sending arrow after arrow into the attackers. After her mother was killed Sakura for a moment hated this entire new land. And its people. Bunch of murderers.

But they need to push forwards, they needed to find a place to stay. Their homeland, covered under ice now, was gone. There was no return. They needed a new home.

Then the next attack came, only a week later. It was ninja this time. The idea that you could use ninshū as a weapon… It was horrendous. Repulsive. They decimated the caravan.

Her tribe wasn't using ninshū for fighting. They could mold chakra, send it into objects, build and heal and talk to each other thanks to it. But in this land, the locals used chakra as a weapon. Her people learned it very soon after crossing the border.

And to counter it they had to resort to the same methods as well. So, Sakura was now imbuing her chakra into her arrows. They've became deadlier. She hated it. She loathed it.

After the ninjas' attack her people scattered. Sakura together with a group of ten others escaped uphill. Her younger brother was with her, she kept carrying him in her arms even though he was nine already, and as light as he was, when running uphill his weight threatened to burst her lungs. Yet she didn't let him out of her arms. They camped in the open, without fire. The following day they joined with another group of survivors. Her older brother wasn't among them. They stayed in the valley, they waited a fortnight. Sakura, together with two other women begged on their knees to wait longer. To give others a chance to reconnect. But their in-promptu leader decided otherwise. They moved on. Their wagons were ruined, the animals taken or slaughtered. They had to carry all their supplies. She healed the injured, but she couldn't do much for the lack of food.

The following month was horrible. They travelled through barren mountains and the hunger walked with them. Her little brother didn't have enough energy to go on. She carried him whenever she could, but it was above her strength. She tried transferring her chakra into him, but it was only making her weaker, and him not much stronger. One day, during a foul weather, he just lost his foothold and fell. Just like that. They stopped Sakura from jumping into the ravine after him.

They crossed that mountain range eventually.

The plain on the other side was luscious and green. As green as Sakura had never seen before. Full of hope it was.

Until they met the people.

They were vicious.

But her people were only below a hundred now. Sakura really thought they would be able to sneak through without raising much commotion.

She was wrong.

Yesterday they were attacked.

They were passing an open field and there was no escape. Nowhere to hide. Attackers were shaping Mother Earth herself into a weapon. They sent thunderbolts at them. People hit with them were shaking and frying. Sakura would never forget the smell.

She fought. She tried healing. It was soon obvious that her healing was too slow. She was sending arrow after arrow, and it was all in vain. Her people pressed together in a tight circle; she still remembered the warmth of the arm of an older man next to her. He was a fisherman in her village. He was holding a wood chopping ax and told her that it will be alright.

It wasn't.

The attackers rolled over them like a wave.

At some point, in close combat she must have gotten hit and lost consciousness.

Now it was all coming back.

Sakura bent down and dry-heaved. Still on her fours, she started to cry. The corpses under her were cold already.

Someone must have survived though!

In the bright sunlight, she was turning one corpse after another.

Most were her people.

All were dead.

She thought she was empty when her mother died. Then she thought she was truly, really dead inside when her brother fell to his death.

Now she was learning what empty really meant.

She plopped on the ground and stared. Sun was travelling higher on the sky.

And then she heard it. Footsteps. She didn't have energy to turn. Come what it may. She hoped they would just kill her quickly.

The footsteps sounded closer. Sakura closed her eyes. "Mama… Mama…" she whispered.

No blow came.

Instead, he stood now before her. A man. In red armor of this land. With a mane of hair flowing down his back.

She raised her eyes to him. Would he hurry up? Please, let him hurry.

He extended his hand towards her.

A black glove.

Sakura stared. She didn't want to move. She didn't want anything anymore.

The man said something in his language and turned his hand minutely so that his palm was facing upwards. Inviting her to lay her hand in his.

Sakura looked at her lap. Looked at her own hands as if she saw them for the first time in her life.

She didn't understand his language. But she understood what his open hand meant. It is a miracle that hands can say what the mouth cannot. No one will speak to her in her language anymore. Two fat tears rolled down Sakura's cheeks. No one will ever understand her again.

Yet this outstretched hand was still there. In front of her.

She lifted her arm. She didn't want it to shake. She didn't want it to be so thin. She didn't want the bloodied nailbeds, torn clothing. That whiteness of her skin that was so different from the skin tone of people here.

Man's hand was still outstretched. Waiting for her.

She didn't have many options, right? She was dead meat. He could kill her, or grab her and have his way with her and kill her _afterwards_.

Yet this hand was asking for her trust.

Can she make this leap in her heart? Can she trust a stranger? One of _them_?

Her hand hovered over his. Stark contrast of the white against the black.

There where she came from, trust was commonplace between people. Thanks to ninshū they understood one another so well.

Trust came so hard by here.

A centimeter lower.

But she was still herself. Even if she was the last one, she will live along the rules of her people. She will keep her heart open. Even if that will be the last way to honor those who have perished.

Let their legacy live through her.

Sakura's skin made contact with the black leather. The man curled his fingers enveloping hers.

And pulled making her stand up.

He let go off her hand immediately afterwards, as if he didn't want to spook a wild animal by holding it too long. He said some words to her, of which she understood none. But he gestured at her and she followed.

She must have understood correctly, as he allowed her to walk with him, occasionally glimpsing at her, as if checking on her status and saying some words. They sounded like matter-of-fact assurances.

After an hour or so they reached a small stream. The man stopped and used his chakra to unseal a number of appliances from a strange, thin, yellowish roll. He gestured between her and the stream and turned to busy himself with the camp. Sakura understood it as a hint to wash up.

When she returned, the fire was burning and there was meat roasting over it. She had forgotten how hungry she was.

In relative safety, adrenaline from her system must have worn out because three bites into the roasted rabbit leg Sakura started crying.

The meat was good but her tears ruined the taste of it. Then she ruined it in its entirety because she dropped the stick on the ground as she clutched her hands together in futile attempt to stop their shaking. She couldn't hold it. She started sobbing uncontrollably.

She didn't register when the man stood up and came up to kneel in front of her. Speaking words, he should long know she couldn't understand, he grabbed her balled hands and held them between his.

She travelled with him. He seemed to want it and she didn't have any other place to go. She got his attention when on the first evening she healed her wounds using chakra. But she had an impression he would have taken her with him even without that display.

She didn't know if he wasn't talkative, or if he just found conversations pointless with her. She would prefer if he talked more – she needed to learn the new language. But she was too numb and exhausted to take initiative. Still, she wanted to express her gratefulness. So, from time to time, when they camped, and the situation seemed right, she would stroke his hand. She was sure he understood.

It was a long trek. Sakura was malnourished and her shoes were so worn, that she kept hurting her feet. She had to heal them, using up her already miserable chakra reserves. It all made for a strenuous journey.

As they went day by day, and camped, evening by evening, Sakura was coming to a conclusion that she liked him. He seemed genuinely nice. Calm and caring in that very straight-forward way. And she… she also liked him… differently. She liked looking at him. She liked that feeling inside her that was blooming each time she was examining his features. Or the slope of his shoulders. Or the contour of muscles on his upper arms. Or the way he moved.

_'_ _Oh, what does it matter anyhow?'_ she thought one evening. Better him than someone else. She was just a girl all alone in this scary, hostile, predatory world. She was old enough. Had not their exodus she would have been married by now. Her people valued children.

So that evening it was her who crouched in front of him and gently untangled his fingers from that customary gesture he was making always when he sat by the fire. Traced lines on the outer sides of his palms, and then on the inner. Ghosted touches up on his arms, up to his shoulders. It was when her hands were already around his neck that he gathered her into his lap.

When they made love, for the first time since the massacre of her people Sakura didn't feel alone.

When couple of days later she saw walls of the buildings ghosting between the trees, she simply took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. And went with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please tell my what you think!


	13. Darkness

**13\. Darkness**

**Rating:** K

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

She didn't really know what woke her up. She was torn out of the deepest phase of sleep.

Being at home, and being in Konoha for the entire year, made her lose her old habits. Now she was sleeping more soundly, allowing her consciousness to fully drift away. It was not the case earlier, when the missions were her daily bread.

Still, Sakura's first impulse was to sit up in the bedding and grab the kunai lying on the nigh table. Her eyes needed some time to adjust to the darkness, but her ears didn't. She immediately heard Madara breathing heavily and with effort next to her. He was also sitting up, judging from where the sounds were coming.

"Madara? What's happening?"

Another two audible breaths. It was unlike him. The only times she _heard_ him breathing was after using a large scale Katon jutsu, and even then, Sakura suspected it was because Fire Techniques consumed a significant portion of the oxygen from the user's system rather than from an actual effort.

"What's wrong?" A small alarm rang in Sakura's head.

"I woke you up…" his voice was regular and leveled. "I'm sorry about that."

"But what is going on? Did you hear something? Is someone inside the house?"

Madara threw off the covers and lowered his legs to the floor. "No," he said, standing up. "Everything is alright."

"Then where are you going? And why?"

Madara leaned down and stroked her face, exactly along her cheekbone. Amazing how well he could see in the darkness – Uchihas' eyes were things of beauty, even without the Sharingan. "Sleep… I'll be right back."

That alarmed her even more. Instead of lying down, she jumped out of the bed and pitter-pattered towards the bathroom where he disappeared.

Madara was undressing, clearly with intention of taking a shower. So, there was definitely no intruder in the house, it was already a plus, concluded Sakura. But what came onto him to go through hygiene routines in the middle of the night?

Madara turned sharply at her entry. She could see how the skin on his back glistered from perspiration. Sakura sat down on the closed toilet with the air of finality.

"So… what is going on?"

"Nothing."

"And you are showering because….?

Madara didn't answer.

"Come on. I have to hunt you into the shower every evening." Sakura tried turning her concern into a joke. Judging from his face expression it didn't quite work. "Just tell me… If you tell me I'll stop worrying."

"I dreamt something."

"Something bad?"

Ninja and dreams… It was a never-ending story. Half of Sakura's patients experienced nightmares at some point of time. Their profession was preparing their bodies to be lethal, but completely failed in the department of preparing their minds to deal with the consequences that lethality. Or maybe it wasn't something you could prepare your mind for. Maybe it was something the mind wasn't equipped to deal with at all. During the missions ninja kept themselves together for the most the part. Those that didn't, died young. Problems were usually coming later – half a year later, a year later. Two years after a traumatic event.

So her question was rather… rhetorical. Of course, it was something bad. But Sakura knew that it made it easier to talk if the second person started the conversation already.

She wasn't wrong – Madara first nodded and then even spared her a murmur of confirmation. How to make him talk? Should she enter his personal space or should she not? Did he need her now? Maybe better not push it too far?

"And what about?" she asked keeping her tone encouraging but not too concerned. He would hate it if she babysitted him now. "If you don't mind telling me, I would really like to know… We all have our demons and you sure have more than most, and… That what wakes you up at night - it is also something that makes you - _you_ … The same way your favourite dish or color… Or actually on a much more important level than those trivia do," Sakura managed a short laughter. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Madara sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub. "I know what you mean. But I'm not so sure if I want to talk about it."

Ouch. That hurt. But that's ok, everyone was allowed to have some sphere they didn't share with others. Not even with the closest others. She shouldn't pressure him. "Alright," she said and stood up. "I hope the shower helps. And when you come back I will be awake and I really want to cuddle." Passing him by, she scraped her nails lightly against his shoulder.

"Cuddle?"

"Yup. Because now my feet are freezing and once you come out of shower you will so nice and warm," she offered a light-hearted half-truth that he for sure saw through.

He laughed, acknowledging her attempt. "Sure. I'm just a self-propelling heater for you anyways." Sakura was at the doorstep when he spoke again. "The cave. I dream about that cave."

Sakura turned. "Which cave?"

"The one where I lived during the last years of my life. During the last three decades of my life…"

"And?" Sakura carefully molded her tone. "What about it? What happened there?"

"Much… But that's not the point. When I dream about it, I dream about being submerged in a complete darkness. Suffocating darkness, pressing at me from all the sides. I open my eyes wider and wider, I strain them, and all I see is black. I don't even see myself. I don't know if I'm siting or standing or lying. I _breathe_ that darkness."

"Oh," said Sakura. "Oh… I… I think I can imagine…"

"Good. But don't spent too much time imagining it. It's enough that I have to."

"Do you imagine _that_? Actively?"

"Not imagine. There are moments that I am convinced that I'm still there. In that cave. That I've never left it."

The next morning, Sakura woke up early. Lying in bed on her back she watched how the bright lines formed by the light filtering through the blinds moved down and down on the wall. Sun was rising from behind the Academy's roof and their house was whole bathed in sunshine now. What could she do against those nightmares of Madara? How did you chase the darkness out of someone's head? Especially if he had already left this darkness behind by his own choice? What else could one do?

Sakura gazed up. Now the sun stood exactly the way that the light was going through those holes for the strings that held the blinds together and it was forming three parallel paths of spots on the ceiling. Just a moment, just a minute change of angle and they would be gone. Tiny specks of dust danced in the sun beams and Sakura could almost see all colours of the rainbow in them. But maybe it was just a trick her eyes were playing on her.

Light was ever-changing, always different. The darkness stayed. It was still there were he had left it. Back in that cave.

That damn cave.

Well, maybe it didn't have to be there forever…

She waited until he woke up on his own, until they ate the breakfast and drank their coffee. Only then she started the conversation.

"Would it change anything if you knew that the cave was gone? If the rational part of your mind knew that being back there is impossible?"

Madara raised his head from over his three-quarters-empty cup. "Don't bother yourself with that. You cannot help it and it is not such a big deal."

"But it bothers me. And maybe I can help it? So, will it or won't it?"

"Maybe it will. Who knows…?"

"Can you take me there? And before you say 'No', before you tell me I cannot help, just let me try. Watching someone suffer and not being able to do anything is the worst feeling in the world… Just let me try, even if you don't believe in my success."

He took her there a week later. The cave was at the border of the Land of Grass. When he stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere and pointed downwards, Sakura couldn't believe there was anything in that ordinarily-looking, seemingly fertile soil. And definitely not a system of caves.

"Here? Are you sure?"

Madara sent her a heavy look. "I am sure. I lived here for thirty-four years. It is right below us."

"But that is against the geology, there need to be rocks for it to be a cave…"

"There is opening to a huge ravine just behind those trees. We are standing on an extension of a cliff. The canyon is where the entries are. Or were, because I blocked all save one. But the system of caves stretches wide and deep. Now we are just above the place I've spent… well… most of my life."

Sakura knew better not to question his words any further. "How deep?" she asked instead.

"Some fifty meters maybe…"

"And there is nothing of value there anymore?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering Sakura released chakra from her Byakugō _._ As shimmering tendrils of the seal enveloped her limbs, for a short, shortest moment she felt all-powerful.

Fifty meters of rock was a lot.

But earth-crushing, chakra-enhanced punches weren't her specialty for nothing. And a Byakugō-enhanced punch was an entirely different league.

Sakura's fist connected with the ground.

She felt the tremor of the parting rock inside her knuckles. The vibrations resonated in the bones of her wrist, travelled up her arm spreading pain and destruction. The seal was there to mend together the shattered bones as they were falling apart into the dust.

Beneath her feet the soil was opening, revealing the rockbed of the mountain. The stones were parting as well, cracking and rolling into the ever-growing cavern.

How deep? Thirty meters? More? Was once enough or would she need to repeat the punch? It was hard to judge.

Sakura stood at the edge of the hollow, absentmindly rubbing her wrist. No use to heal it properly yet if she had to strike for the second time.

Madara, standing motionlessly next to her until now, suddenly leaned forward. Between the falling boulders and rising dust, a patterned flat surface came into the light. Sakura narrowed her eyes – a floor of a room. Of a chamber. One of the falling rocks hit a stone throne tearing off most of its backrest. Smaller stones rolled around the room and in the process buried a rudimentary bed and a table that stood in the corner.

Bright sunlight hit the cavern. Sakura carefully glimpsed sidewards to Madara. He didn't move a muscle since he saw the room.

How did it feel to see this place again? To see it destroyed?

In the sunlight the seat of the throne seemed violet. The floor glistened there where the dust wasn't covering it. It wasn't all black either. And it would never be black again under the open sky.

She glimpsed at Madara again. He was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I’m curious about your impressions!


	14. Spice

**14\. Spice**

**Rating:** K

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU

**Warning:** Making fun of Madara-sama (again...)

**Idea/Inspiration:** Kotoffeya and Marquise de Nile

* * *

"I cooked."

"You … did?"

She was super tired and super hungry, and just wanted to get some instant ramen and gobble on them and she wasn't expecting an entire cooked dinner. She wasn't aware that Madara could cook.

But there it was – fried fish with cooked rice. No vegetables, but she couldn't blame him – she knew there was absolutely nothing of that sort in the fridge. Last carrots she grabbed as an emergency snack running to the hospital today's morning. So given the circumstances, what stood in front of her on the table was a perfectly decent home-cooked meal.

Sakura beamed. "Wow. Thank you." She picked up the chopsticks. "You cannot imagine how much I appreciate it after the whole day of running around."

She placed a piece of fish in her mouth and chewed. Crispy skin and not overcooked inside, all fine but… "Can you pass me some salt?"

He did, and she considered just unscrewing the cap and jamming half of the container directly on the rice. She restrained herself and sprinkled it in a normal way.

"And how do you like it?" asked Madara chewing on his portion, evidently enjoying the meal.

"Uhm… It's really good…"

"But?"

Sakura blinked innocently. "What 'but'?"

"There is a 'but'. I see it on your face."

Sakura sweat-dropped. How could she navigate it? He made an effort for her, he predicted her exhausted state, he spent time and energy to prepare a meal for her. No one had ever cooked for her except for her mother, obviously. It was glorious. What should she say?

"Just say it. You can start like this: 'It's really good but…'" prompted her Madara.

Sakura swallowed. He didn't seem upset until now, and he hated insincerity. "It is really good but it doesn't taste like much…" she offered raising her eyes to him apologetically.

Madara furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?" he asked in complete disorientation.

"Uhm.. taste? Flavor?"

"The fish tastes with fish and rice tastes with rice? With what else should it taste?"

"Additional flavours that would enhance the taste of the ingredients? And play and compose with one another? Spices, you know?"

Madara looked at her as if he didn't understand.

"A salt," added Sakura. "It needs more salt."

"Ok, I can remember that," said Madara quickly, as if putting his foot on a familiar patch of land. "I'm just not used to using salt."

"Why?"

"For salt you have to trade. Food you can get relatively easy – my White Zetsus were capable of simple trapping and gathering edible plant parts once I taught them that. For salt I would have needed to engage in commerce. Which would have been rather contraproductive if I was supposed to stay undercover in my cave, right? So, I got used to not salting the food."

"Oh, I see…" If even salt was off-limits for him then no wonder that he had unlearned more complex flavors. Spices must have been as inaccessible as stars in the sky for him. Sakura picked up another chunk of fish. "You know, once I add salt to my taste, I can actually enjoy the taste of fish." She smiled at him.

* * *

It was some two weeks later that Sakura felt like cooking herself. She had two days off in a row from the hospital, so she managed to recover from her sleep-deficit, do a proper shopping and even clean the windows. So, in the late afternoon, rummaging through her fridge she got inspired for some more fancy cooking. She settled for a curry-style stew, which admittingly wasn't very representative visually, but she was planning to make up for the shabby exterior with the flavours. She was already looking forward to Madara appreciating it and maybe understanding her point from earlier. How fun would it be for him to discover all that richness hidden in tastes! Sakura was all giddy with excitement.

When he took the first bite, she wasn't that excited anymore. His usual aloofness gave place to surprise, and then to mild shock. He chewed carefully as if he was afraid to really allow the food much contact with his mouth. Not a good sign. Asking if he liked it was pretty pointless.

"Is it very unusual for you? I've put quite some spices in, it was a southern-Suna recipe that Temari gave me, and I tweaked it a bit…"

"Uhm.." Madara was still chewing. Trying to keep his face straight he swallowed. "Southern Suna?" he asked still trying to preserve an air of nonchalance. And then he dropped the facade. He abruptly grabbed the glass of water and downed it in one gulp. "What did you put in there?" he stared at her with a non-hidden horror. "There is something burning in the food!"

"That's probably the chili..."

"Are you sure that you didn't mix it up with some of your medicines?"

"Perfectly sure. It is a very common spice and it's used in many dishes…"

"You're telling this is supposed to be like that? My whole mouth is burning." Madara stood up and marched to the sink for a refill of water.

"You just need to wait, water won't help," offered Sakura. "Or if it's that bad maybe I can give you some milk?"

"Water won't help? Why?"

"Because the molecules that are responsible for the burning sensation aren't water-soluble. They are hydrophobic. You just need to wait for your receptors to get desensitize and calm down…"

"So you're telling me that this thing sticks to the inside of my mouth and I cannot wash it away?" Madara's summary of the situation made her want to hide under the table. "Then I have a better solution than waiting."

In three quick steps he reached the balcony and pushed the door open with much more force than it was necessary. Alarmed, Sakura jumped off her chair and rushed towards him, just in time to see a majestic stream of fire fly up, narrowingly missing the neighbours' balcony, a street lamp on their side of the street and trees on the opposite one.

"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed eyeing the black smut stain across the floor of the balcony above. Neighbours would surely see it from the street! Not to mention that something could have actually caught fire! "Stop that!"

The jet of flames broke. She was rather sure that not at her urging, but at that point she was happy that it stopped.

"Why did you do that?"

"I thought that burning out the substance will be the fastest method of getting rid of it. And it worked splendidly."

Sakura only stared, suddenly lost at words.

"Let's go inside, shall we? I will gladly eat some rice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and it please tell me what you think about this little silliness :)))


	15. Name

**15\. Name**

**Rating:** K

 **Verse:** Hokage Madara Verse by victoriacapo, same as fic number 3.

 **Idea/Inspiration:** Both AU and OC is a creation of victoriacapo

* * *

"My mother asked me about the name... Twice." Sakura raised her eyes from the bundle in her arms to him. "I don't want to rush you, I can wait, I really can. I'm calling him 'Little one' anyhow since I've learned that I was pregnant. And I think it is important that you pick the name that you are fine with. But honestly I'm not sure how long I can fend off my mother..."

Madara could sympathize. He also wasn't sure how long would he handle Haruno Mebuki himself... He made a point out of never checking. Sakura was doing a job fine enough on that front. Navigating the in-laws situation was tricky enough without antagonizing the mother-in-law.

Madara looked at his son. He had assumed that seeing him would help him pick the name, that it would change that strange emptiness and confusion he felt and transform it into a feeling of actually having a child. Well, it partially worked. There was no emptiness. It was so concrete, so palpable. When Sakura had been pregnant, well, he had intellectually accepted the fact he was going to be a father. But it had been a very abstract concept. Now there was nothing abstract in that tiny reddish face, eyes of strange, nondescript color, fingers clutching at everything and in those high-pitched sounds coming out his son. He was expecting the experience to become even more immersive once Sakura comes home with the kid tomorrow.

"We can brainstorm together if you want...? Do you have any prerequisites about the name? Like... do you prefer it short or long? How traditional do you want to go?" Sakura was looking at him gently. He really appreciated that. Somehow he didn't feel very at home with this entire situation while she apparently did. "Because I assume you want traditional...?" Sakura was interrupted by hellish screeching. "Oh! I think he's hungry! Okay, okay, I'm sorry, but I have to concentrate on that now..." she spaced out unbuttoning her chemise. "It is still a bit of a challenge for both of us, you know?" Sakura smiled at the tiny creature in her arms.

He watched her breastfeed. He wondered how did she do all that. How did it come to her so naturally, as if she just was born with the knowledge what to do with that tiny bundle of life. She was fulfilling her role wonderfully even though hers was much bigger. Madara's role had been really negligible until now. Some fun at the very beginning, some adjusting to Sakura's mood swings (which weren't really anything worth mentioning), some taking over the household tasks during the last two months when the pregnancy took a heavier toll on her, and now… now the name. Madara remembered when they first discussed it, how skillfully Sakura guessed that it held much significance to him. It was the clan's revival in the end. He was the clan leader, and his son, with all probability would be his heir.

He had never thought he would have to name anyone. There was something of deepest gravity about giving a person their name. Sakura gave their son a body. He was supposed to create that, what people would say when they would think about his son, call him, imagine him. A definition. It should be good one.

Sakura returned home with the little one the next day. She didn't even manage to unpack her bag when the damn jinchuuriki was already standing on the doorstep. Correction. Not standing and not on the doorstep. He was hanging through the open window.

"Oi, Sakura-chaaan! How could you give birth when I was on the mission, seriously! How could you!"

"Naruto. It is not something you can control! And stop screaming, you will wake him up!" shouted Sakura back in that strange hushed voice. Madara had an impression that this kind of voice will now be in use a lot around the house.

Meanwhile the jinchuuriki crawled in through the window. Madara made a mental note to install mosquito nets. In all the windows.

"So," the blonde halfwit made himself comfortable on their bed. "How is he called?"

Sakura carefully avoided looking at Madara. And even more carefully kept her lips tight.

Jinchuuriki rolled (on their marital bed. He was rolling on their marital bed.) and hung his face over the crib. "What's your name you little fellow?" he tickled the boy on the cheek. "How is uncle Naruto supposed to call you?!"

"He doesn't have a name yet," said Madara and left.

In the evening he couldn't help but to overhear Sakura's other friend asking about the name. The Yamanaka girl had such an annoyingly high pitch that her voice went through several walls.

Madara sighted. He should really decide. But it was so important, so pivotal. It would define this little human being, and somehow he didn't feel up to the task. Maybe he should leave the responsibility to Sakura.

He was sitting, falling deeper into a gloomy mood, when she came. Without the little one. She climbed onto his lap and slowly combed fingers through his hair.

"So," she started. "Is the name bothering you so much? If it does, we can wait however long you want. I don't care about what others say."

Madara shook his head. "No, we need to decide."

"We? I thought you are choosing it?"

"Seems that I cannot."

"Need some help?" She combed his hair again, her fingernails against his scalp. "So, what names have you considered?"

"Well, traditional ones. Like Hayabusa, Takeshi... They all sound well in combination with 'Uchiha'."

"But? There must be a 'but' somewhere there…"

"I am irrationally drawn to the names already used in my family..."

"And what's wrong in that? It sounds like a great idea!" Sakura clasped her hands together.

"They are all very dead."

"Nothing unusual if one is naming a child after someone from a previous generation. Especially with all the wars..."

"I was thinking about my brothers," clarified Madara in clipped tone. "And they all died young. As you know."

Sakura took a moment to answer. He felt her shifting in his lap. "I don't believe in such things," she said in the end. "In such omens. Did you have a particular name on your mind?"

"There was Takayuki and Ayu... and ... Masaru..."

"And this is the name you want for him. Masaru. Am I right?"

"This is what I keep thinking about. Whenever I think about the name, about a name, this one keeps popping up..."

"Then maybe it means something? And you know what? I think there is an omen in it… An omen in which I chose to believe," trailed off Sakura smiling.

"Is there? And do I want to know what it is?"

"I think you do…" Sakura brushed fingers across his cheek. "The first syllable of your name followed by the first syllable of mine... If that's not a sign that it's the correct one, then I don't know what is..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think. And if you're interested about Masaru, Victoria has so much about him on her tumblr!  
> And, the name 'Masaru' comes actually from my fic "Awakening" where it was the name of Madara's oldest brother.


	16. Missing You

**16\. Missing You**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Reincarnation AU

**Idea/Inspiration:** I guess me, but I wanted to thank Marquise de Nile for making me see an unconventional interpretation to 'missing you'.

* * *

She was different. Different hair, different stature. Different face, different abilities. Different yet in her very essence – the same. He didn't know how he could be so sure, but he was.

The girl, the third link that they failed to find, the third link without which the construction was doomed to fall. That girl from the nomadic tribe had ash-blond hair, was taller, sturdier. Her eyes were also not the same, but they at least bore some similarity to the one before him. And, her previous form was also a healer. Or a medicine woman, as her tribe had been calling that profession.

When he had first saw her, she was a kid and so was he. Her tribe stopped within Uchiha territory and he was in a squad sent to investigate. His clan's intent was to exterminate the intruders, but seeing how harmless the nomads were, the squad's leader deemed them unworthy of fight. There was no tribute that could be collected from those people either – they had owned only herds of animals and their tents. So, it had been agreed that they would rent their healers into service in the Uchiha compound. The girl was one of them, she was an apprentice back then.

The medicine people spent couple of days in Uchiha village, drawing several people out of embraces of certain death with their strange chants and smelly herb-concoctions. Of course, the elders wanted to keep the healers, but one night they simply disappeared.

He was too young back then to recognize what he felt to the girl. Only when he met Hashirama, he was struck by realization how familiar the feeling was. A sense of bond that pre-dated the actual meeting. Not meeting a stranger, but happening across someone whom you hadn't seen for a very long while and finally found again.

When he gained Mangekyō Sharingan and read in the tablet about the three-sided deadlock between the descendants of Sage of Six Paths, he understood. His relationship with Hashirama was defined by rivalry. They kept struggling, kept proving their points to each other. Kept fighting. Each of them wanted to win, wanted to end up on top.

Left to their own devices they were destined to fight.

The third element that would keep them in check wasn't there. The third element was missing.

After founding Konoha and seeing how his dynamics with Hashirama inevitably was developing (or rather deteriorating) Madara set off on a quest to find her. It wasn't easy to find nomads who had traversed the land almost two decades prior, but he did. Seeing her grown up, surrounded with her own children broke some portion of his heart. He didn't even approach her – back then he didn't know what would be the consequences.

And the consequences were Madara releasing the raging Kyuubi against Hashirama. And Hashirama – his friend, his blood-brother – killing him.

Even now, with all the knowledge he still didn't know if he would have been able to kidnap her back then. To drive her away from her people, from her family. Or, in the most benign version to transplant the entire folk to Konoha and slowly, painfully draw a wedge between her and her husband. Because that would have inevitably happened… The bond was too strong.

He didn't know back then if it was love, exactly. He didn't know even now. He lacked references.

But the strength of the bond had power to reshape the continents.

So when he saw the girl now fighting side-by-side with his and Hashirama's reincarnations, it was the first moment when Madara thought he might lose. A single piece, against all three. But only for a moment.

The real handicap came from the fact that he kept getting preoccupied with watching how the girl balanced out her comrades. They, or maybe she in particular, was making him lose his focus time after another. It was a thing of beauty – the three-fold deadlock made flesh and put into action.

When he was betrayed by that scum, he thought to be his servant, all Madara could do was to watch, lying broken on the ground, how the new reincarnations fought the goddess.

For a moment he thought that the world had found its balance. That maybe this time everything indeed would be alright.

When three hands glowing with Hagoromo's marks closed down on the goddess he was sure that he lost and that maybe it was better this way.

But then he saw his reincarnation making a stand against the other two, announcing the will to fight the other boy. Why? Wasn't the girl's influence enough? Why was his reincarnation so stubborn, so short-sighted?! Had he on his place also fail to see through his own ego?

The Uchiha kid covered his arm in Lighting Release and aimed it into the chest of the petrified girl. She could dodge, or at least attempt to, but apparently the betrayal stunned her completely. Thanks all the gods, the brat was only marking the killing blow and he put the girl under a genjutsu instead. For a moment Madara was relieved. The kid wasn't stupid enough to kill her. Maybe there was still some hope.

But when the girl fell face-down and proceeded to scream and twist on the ground he almost jerked up, despite all the broken bones. What the hell? Madara strained his eyes. The girl _was_ under genjutsu. And she was screaming none the less. What did that boy inflict upon her?

His and Hashirama's reincarnations ran away leaving the Konoha jōnin, apparently teacher of the group, standing helplessly over girl, his eyes once again Sharingan-less. She was still screaming.

"Hey. You," managed Madara. "Bring her here. I can dispel it."

Silver-haired jōnin seriously considered killing him, Madara could sense his intent. But the man was too experience to be stupid. He suppressed all his resentment and carefully picked up flailing girl into his arms. He had to hold her down with his body weight to have hands free to pry her unseeing eyes open as Madara focused the last of his chakra into lifting the genjutsu.

The girl came to herself and wracked, shaking the jōnin off her in a split of second. Her chakra-enhanced strength was a thing to behold. But all she used it for was to free herself, because the second thing she did was to roll to her side and dry-heave.

When she came about, Madara was surprised by her level-headedness. She didn't jump up to rush after her teammates. Instead she asked to be briefed in. And then she made a decision that had Madara's thoughts stop in their tracks. She decided to heal him.

When she placed her hands on his chest, he thought he saw something in her face, some longing, and a lot of sadness… Did she also feel the bond across the reincarnations?

"I remember you," he said. "Or not you, but the previous you. You passed through my life and back then I couldn't keep you in it."

The girl lifted her head. "I don't remember," she shook her head. She paused and looked at him, the longing so, so visible in her eyes. "But I think I regret that you didn't. I don't know why, but what I'm feeling now is regret."

"I regret it as well. I should have brought you to Konoha. With you it would have worked. You were the missing element."

"Missing element? I thought you meant…"

"That I would have taken you for myself? No. If one of us would have had you, it would have tipped the balance. We needed you next to us, on the same level with us."

"Do you think it would have worked? People also have hearts, not only destinies… You speak as if you wanted to, even if you know you shouldn't have. Heart don't always listen," she said quietly.

She was speaking out of experience; he could see that. He could see how she was looking at her dark-haired teammate. Could this girl keep the balance? Or would she sway and tilt it? As he would have had back then. Maybe it was good that in the end he had restrained himself and left her with her family. At least she had a good life.

"There, all set." The girl lifted her hands off his chest. "I need to go now. You said I am to keep them in check. Then I will do what I must."

She ran, but she didn't manage to shake neither him nor her teacher off her trail. She didn't have that much chakra left, and what she had, she was saving.

When they arrived at the edge of the cliff, he found the scale of desolation mildly disappointing. Apparently, the brats were already exhausted as the valley still held its general shape. Nevertheless, the girl almost doubled over as her body lurched forwards at the sight of her teammates. Her teammates that were charging at each other from the opposite sides of the valley with their signature jutsu glowing around their arms. She jumped down. She was too late to stop them, too late for them to extinguish their momentum. She was just in time to reach the point of their clash.

"Sakuraaa! Noooo!" her teacher screamed after her, his face painted in such horror that Madara understood that this very scene had already played in front of the man's eyes before.

Once the jutsu connect she will be caught in between. She might save them, she probably will but at the cost of her life. She had no jutsu. Even if she had, she wasn't using it. She meant to use her body as a buffer.

The third element won't be there once again and the history will repeat itself.

No.

Not this time.

He wasn't defeated for the history to repeat itself.

Madara picked up two stones from the ground. The familiar weight and shape felt almost warm in his palms. An expert with a stone can defeat a beginner with a kunai – this is what they were told as kids.

Would he manage?

Two stones flew swift as falcons in diving attack.

Brats fell limp just mere meters away from connecting the hit with themselves. And with the girl. She stopped abruptly, fell onto her knees and started to shake.

Madara needed some time to get down the cliff – there was still something wrong with his knees – the girl must have not healed them properly in her hurry. He also needed to help her jōnin teacher, as exhausted as the man was.

When he finally came up to her she didn't turn.

He sat down next to her.

"Thank you…" she said not lifting her head.

"Welcome," he skipped 'I couldn't just stand and watch you getting killed' out. It would have been awfully out of character. "Why aren't you healing them yet?" he asked instead.

The girl rubbed wetness off her cheek. "Unconscious they are less trouble." She quipped in a rather shaky voice.

"Indeed."

"You said I need to balance them out."

"Yes. That would include you staying alive, for a start." Madara couldn't hold back the snide.

"Then… I cannot take sides, right? Maybe… maybe it will be better this way. Because I don't think he… he ever…" her voice broke and she didn't finish the sentence.

"What? Will love you?"

Girl only nodded.

"And you do? Do you love him?"

"That is at least how I chose to think about it. This is the third time I see him in four years. Previous two times he tried to kill either Naruto or both of us. I didn't even talk to him. I don't know what person he is. Back then, by the tree – that genjutsu he put me under… How can one be so cruel?" She raised her eyes to Madara.

"Maybe it wasn't cruelty. Maybe he was trying to keep you at a distance."

"Maybe. But whatever happens I cannot help to be drawn to him. I cannot help it…"

"Funny, the previous time it was exactly the other way around."

"What do you mean?"

"I think if I had a chance, I would have loved you. Or that person that you were back then. That I wouldn't be able to help it. But life unfolded itself in a different way."

"So what did you do?"

"I kept my distance. And I think in some way I have missed you ever since."

The girl examined her hands. "Will it be the same for me? Will I forever miss him? Will I forever be forced to keep my distance even if all I want is to grasp at him?"

"I don't know. Maybe yes."

The girl wound her arms around her curled-up legs, as if in an attempt of hugging herself. "I don't know if I can do it…" she whispered, propping her forehead on her knees. "My entire life…? Is this supposed to be my entire life?"

He didn't know what prompted him to this gesture. He really had no idea. But he extended her hand and rubbed there where her shoulder blade was. The girl lifted her head. Her eyes were wet.

"And you? Do you still…? Do you still feel that bond?"

"Yes, I do."

The girl shifted. Still in the same, self-comforting position, but now facing him more. Now he could see that her cheeks were wet as well. "Do you… miss me?"

"I do."

The girl sniffed. Then rubbed her eyes. Then rubbed them again. She peeked at him twice until she finally straightened up and said. "I'm here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading, and please share your thoughts with me!


	17. Ode to Strangers

**17\. Ode to Strangers**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Modern!AU. This is actually a prequel to prompt number 10 - Dirty.

**Warning:** Sasuke doesn't come of very positive in this one... Sorry.

**Idea/Inspiration:** me

* * *

She didn't know for how long already he had been taking the same bus as she did. During the first weeks on the university she was too absorbed with the novelty of the entire situation to pay attention to her surroundings. All that designing of your own lessons' plans, subscribing on the additional courses, getting the books - all that stuff she had to take care of herself. It _was_ different than the high school. Everyone suddenly treated her as an adult. Which she, at nineteen, definitely was already. But until now she was never treated as one.

On top of that, after their gang left high school Sakura made a goal out of keeping the group together. She loved her friends, she really did. But also she had an inferior, more egoistic motive as well. She knew that if the group held together, she would have a platform for interactions with Sasuke. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't let him drift away from her.

Such a huge amount of emotional effort went into all that. And there were so many novelties to process. Her mind must have been cutting off the stimuli wherever it could. Because it took her until the spring, when she was well into the university routine, to notice the black-haired man that was boarding the bus two stops after her.

He was always there. Everyday, in the 07:18 bus. He would always take the same seat, the one by the window, one seat ahead of her, on the opposite side of the aisle. It made her somehow warm inside to see another person also having 'his' place, just like her.

From how they were sitting, she could see his reflection in the glass. It was actually his face that first drew her attention. Because he looked so damn similar to Sasuke.

Hidden in the privacy of looking at the reflection and not at the real face, Sakura couldn't stop staring. Oh, how she longed to be able to look at Sasuke this way. Without self-control and self-consciousness, without the worry that she would irritate him, without fear that he would call her out for stalking him and tell her to scram. How she wanted to be able to study his face, the shape of eyes, the curve of lips, all the micro-expressions in the minute detail. As she studied them in that black-haired man. And the man had them, even though he seemed very stoic. A small furrow of a brow at irritation about the traffic. A trace of serenity at the sensation of sunlight on his face.

And she had to admit it – she really, really liked his hair. Sakura generally thought that man with long hair looked masculine, and this one was only confirming her opinion. His hair was a statement.

He became so familiar that Sakura had to catch herself each time not to nod to him a greeting when he would board the bus.

That day was supposed to be a good day. Given, there was a colloquium on the anatomy course, but Sakura felt very well prepared. All the previous colloquia turned out completely problem-free for her, so taught by experience she was actually looking forward to it. Once she wrote it, she would be free from that set of notes – they were starting to really bore her by now.

Additionally, the weather was just splendid – warm spring with trees in full bloom, and, most importantly, she had a date with Sasuke today! She chose that skirt she bought last summer on the season-ending discount and never had a chance to wear.

All smiles and warm fuzzy content Sakura rode the bus tapping her foot to the upbeat music playing in her headphones.

That was going to be such a good day, she thought. She finally managed to contrive a one-on-one meeting with Sasuke. She told him she had tickets for the movie she knew he really, really wanted to see. And he agreed. Sakura didn't even remember when was the last time they did something together. On the New Year's Eve they danced together and kissed by the fireworks. Then he walked her to the bus after Tenten's house-warming party (she refused to acknowledge that he was anyhow going the same direction).

Their "dating" was limited to Sakura showing up in front of his department building at the end of his courses and walking with him to the bus stop. She considered that a heck of an achievement that a) she figured out his lecture plan on her own and b) she managed to keep him un-annoyed enough that he hadn't chased her away yet. She was even brave enough to grab his hand from time to time and he wasn't pushing her away. That gave her so much hope. On the weekend they would meet in a larger circle, and Sakura cherished those occasions because she could sit next to him, catch some body-contact in those crowded banks of the pubs.

The bus neared the university quarter, her stop would be the next. Sakura stood up. She was heading towards the doors when she heard a signal of an incoming message.

Sasuke.

Sakura's heart made a tiny, joyful bounce.

Not coming for the movies today said the message.

The punch in the gut was as familiar as was the well-trained reaction to stay calm and keep a pleasant smile on her face. Even if Sasuke couldn't see it. He hated when she was being emotional and Sakura never forgot what he once told her: 'Don't behave as if you had rights to me.'

No, she didn't have any rights. She knew it too well.

Sakura started typing. That's ok, don't worry about it, I'm sure I can still retur…

Sakura bit her lip and deleted what she wrote. Sasuke hated when she was babbling. thx for the info she wrote instead and pressed Send.

Another message popped up, clearly written when she was phrasing her answer. A longer message.

We should stop seeing each other. I know it will be hard for you, so I'm blocking your number so that you can get over it quicker.

Sakura stared at the screen.

She didn't feel anything. For a moment it felt as if she was outside of herself, and was examining her own insides. And finding nothing, only void. There was no feeling, no emotion. How odd. She stared into herself and saw nothing. As if all _her_ had been just deleted.

Somewhere there, there was a rattling, frantic thought that it was a life-changing moment, and nothing, nothing would be the way it was. And that she _should_ feel something. She _must_. That she needed to react somehow.

Only that there was nothing that she could do – a cold, rational part of Sakura's brain supplied. She didn't have any say in what happened in their relationship. And surely, she would have exactly zero say now. She was as helpless as if she was bound to the ground, with her limbs splayed wide and a tabun of horses running at her in full gallop. She had no influence over her life. None whatsoever. Her head was starting to spin.

"You missed your stop." A voice reached her.

She jumped up. Phone fell out of her hand.

The black-haired man bent down and picked it up. Automatically she extended her hand to receive it back. It was then that she looked him in the face for the first time.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

She didn't even register what expression he was wearing. She could perceive only that, what was going on inside of her. The all-encompassing void was rising, from her stomach, to her chest, to her lungs, to her throat. It would soon drown her whole.

"Are you alright?" he asked again. She looked, this time she really looked at him and saw concern in his eyes. A stranger and more care in him than in the boy she spent years chasing after. The boy that knew that he meant everything to her.

And then the flood gates opened. Tears streamed down Sakura's face as she choked down one sob after another clutching at the phone with both her hands.

The bus swayed at the turn and the man grabbed her elbow, preventing her from falling. "Whatever it is," he said leaning a bit towards her, "it won't last. Bad things come to an end as well… It will be all fine again, you can believe me."

Sakura blinked. And sniffed. She dug her hand in the pocket of her jacket looking for the handkerchief. She could do it only because the man was still holding her elbow. "Thank you for … ehm… for the phone and… for talking to me… Did you miss your stop as well?"

"Yes, I did. My stop is the one after yours."

Right. So, he knew where she was leaving the bus, Sakura concluded. How… perceptive of him… How nice that someone paid some attention to her.

A thread of panic crept along Sakura's spine. "I'm so sorry! I was being such a nuisance! I'm sorry!" she looked up to him again. He didn't look annoyed in the slightest.

"Nothing to be sorry about. But I suppose we could leave the bus now, don't we?"

On the pavement, Sakura stood slightly stunned. The day was as beautiful and warm as it was when she had boarded the bus. The weather didn't get affected by her tragedy. What should she do now? She looked around the unfamiliar area.

The man scrolled in his phone. "Looks like the returning bus just left 2 minutes ago and the next one is in 18 minutes. We can just walk back and it will be quicker."

Sakura blew her nose. The blooming trees were still here, as beautiful as in the morning. She nodded. "Alright. Then let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please tell me your thoughts!


	18. Carnival

**18\. Carnival**

**Rating:** T

 **Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU. Continuation of fic number 8 – Sound of Silence

 **Inspiration/Idea:** me

* * *

After what seemed like two days Madara came to the conclusion he needed to formulate a strategy. Any strategy. Because the more time he left to his captors, the bigger was the chance that they would formulate _theirs_.

When towards the evening of the third day he suddenly start sensing repeated violent vibrations coming from his right – the same spot where he assumed the window was – it only reaffirmed his conviction. Whatever was happening out there – a attack, some form of an uproar – he didn't want to be left in a vulnerable position during it. If the building was going to collapse, he would be a helpless victim. If the angry crowd was coming to lynch him – he would also rather meet them unbound.

It surprised him to no end that the woman appeared at the usual time and behaved seemingly unperturbed. At least as much he was able to estimate the time and her behavior with so little sensory input. She first fed him, and then proceeded to push the chakra into his system again.

Which helped him to finalize his plan. His chakra might have been sealed but, whatever powers he had obtained during his long life, he still possessed them. And he had the power of Rinnegan. It was now in him, entangled into the very thing that he was, into his very existence.

He needed no eyes.

When her chakra invaded him, he pulled. He sucked it. He drank it.

The tricky part came afterwards. He needed to cast a genjutsu and he needed to cast it _fast_.

Advanced Sharingan genjutsu didn't need eye contact. Even regular Sharingan users, if skilled enough, could manage with a hand gesture. Using chakra just stolen from the woman he weaved the genjutsu. Woman's hand fell limply on his chest.

"Unbind me."

Sluggish, slow fingers grappled around the collar on his neck. She was fighting the genjutsu. He needed to deepen it before she broke free.

"Hands."

Her fingers were even slower now when they were moving around the straps on his wrists. How was she able to resist him so much? She would break any second!

One of the cuffs fell open.

Did he have enough of that stolen chakra?

Madara sprung up straightening as much as remaining restraints allowed him. He grabbed woman's throat and forced her to look at him. He still had enough. He deepened the genjutsu.

Alright. Now it would hold. Madara allowed his muscles to relax a bit. He fell back on the pillow, exhausted.

Woman's fingers busied themselves with the remaining binds in a bit more vigorous way. The control was more thorough now. Madara recalled how it felt to be captured under genjutsu. They had trained it a lot when they were kids. An adult clan member would put them under an illusion and make them do and feel all kinds of things. Some had been torture, to increase their endurance and resistance to pain. Some had been displays of the perception-altering uses of genjutsu, and they had been supposed to recognize which parts of reality had been changed. Others had been just about control. Those he had hated the most. Even more than torture.

"Unbind my chakra."

It felt like a breath of air when the chakra started to circulate in his system.

Madara sat up.

What now? His chakra was miserably low. Almost at a civilian level. Why was he so empty? What the heck happened to him? He didn't remember. Black Zetsu stabbed him in the back and then, then… He recalled a feeling of something emerging from him. Like a butterfly from a cocoon. Was he a cocoon to something? How could it be? Did it even really happen? And if so, then _what_ exactly did emerge from him? Was it the reason for his wretched state? Madara needed answers.

Maybe the woman could provide some.

Was she even there, in that body sitting next to the bed? Or did he scramble her brain through that haphazard genjutsu?

Madara took woman's head between his hands and slid his chakra into the net he had covered her with. Yes, _she_ was still there. So she was aware of what was going on. Being a puppet with an awake brain - the kind of genjutsu he hated the most as a child. He felt a pang of compassion for the woman. Well, she wouldn't have to suffer too long under it, he would make a quick job with of her.

"Seal on my ears."

The crack of an explosion made him almost recoil from pain. After such a long silence his ears were oversensitive.

"What is going on out there?" was his first question to which he required a verbal answer from her.

"Fireworks." Her voice sounded as strained as stiff her fingers felt.

"Why?"

"Carnival."

Madara arched his eyebrow in amusement. A carnival? They were celebrating a carnival? The scope of human foolishness never ceased to amaze him. Well, but it was perfect. He was expecting a war and having to fight his way through the rows of the both defenders and attackers alike. He might not need to fight at all.

"Where are we?"

"Konoha."

Well, it was all forming to be easier than he expected.

He put his hands on woman's face. A young face, elastic skin, still some child-like roundness in its oval. He dragged fingers higher, up to the cheeks, up to her eyes. Careful. He needed these eyes.

He pried open her eyelids to take the first one.

And hesitated. Completely irrationally, he hesitated. The girl sat motionless like a doll, unable to react. She would feel pain, but she was a kunoichi, she could handle it. And after he gets his answers, he would end her suffering.

Madara lifted her eyelid again.

He felt her breath against his palm. Maybe leaving a bloodied, eyeless corpse behind wasn't the best idea. That would kind of make it _very_ obvious that he had escaped on his own. If he just disappeared all questions would be open. He could have been kidnapped by another village. Konoha would need to keep its lips shut tight. He would be pursued only in the deepest secrecy.

Still, he needed some eyes.

"Your clan?" Madara wanted to rationalize his hesitation.

"I don't have a clan."

"How many Uchihas are in the village?"

"None."

"How come?"

"Sasuke Uchiha is away."

Right, there had been a massacre. Madara couldn't summon even a dash of compassion. Fools deserved what they got.

"How many Hūygas?"

"About forty…"

He dragged his fingers along girl's cheekbones. To her ears, through her hair.

"What happened to me?"

"You... exploded. And then Kaguya emerged from you."

Kaguya? A legendary divine being? The One that was Ten-Tails?

"And then?"

"We fought her. She was sealed."

"And me? What about me?"

"She spat you out. We collected you."

"And you didn't kill me... Harebrained as always… A true legacy of Hashirama," said Madara more to himself than to the girl. In this genjutsu she wasn't capable of having a conversation. She would only react on direct questions and follow simple commands.

Still, how was he even alive…? The genjutsued medic wouldn't tell him more now, he would first need to secure her, modify the genjutsu and interrogate her properly. Something to take care of later. He required more time to get to the bottom of it and to understand his condition.

"You will walk me out of here. Put a henge on yourself." He splayed his hands on her face and felt her features morph and transform. "Your hair as well." He held a strand between his fingers. They turned from silky-smooth to curly.

"Help me stand."

Girl extended her arm to him. After days of lying flat Madara was a bit shaky on his legs. Was it even days? Or maybe weeks? Or months? Another thing to research later. Now the most urgent problem was to get out of here. He was not in a state to fight and he had to face it. He escape without raising a commotion.

"Clothing for me."

Silence answered him. Apparently, the issue wasn't a straightforward one. He needed _some_ clothes – parading naked through Konoha would for sure attract attention. Seemed that the girl had to regain access to a bigger part of her brain. Madara tsked. And grabbed the girl's chin.

"Clothing for me," he repeated.

"Uhm… you're too big for my coat…" Her voice and syntax were now more similar to normal human speech. "But on the corridor, there is a closet with coats and scrubs in different sizes."

"Alright." Madara focused whatever scraps of chakra he had left and performed a miserable henge. He only managed to change the color of his hair, and the shape of his nose. It was very rough. The genjutsu took a proper toll on him. What a humiliating experience. But it wasn't the first humiliation he had lived through. He lived through many and always emerged victorious, that was just another step. He wound his arm around girl's shoulders. "Lead. And scout the corridor for passers-by."

Thank all the gods the closet contained both trousers and the upper parts. And they fitted. And thank gods no one walked on them. Keeping the henge and the genjutsu made Madara immediately sweat through the shirt the girl put on him. Last time he was so weak was after Hashirama had killed him.

Wrapping his arm around girl's shoulders again Madara leaned a bit forward. Maybe he can pass for a drunk being led by his girlfriend? The carnival situation could act to his advantage.

The fabric covering girl's shoulder was unusual. With his free hand he unceremoniously palmed at her chest. Strange fabric here as well, with some small metal plates and tiny, hard, tetrahedral granules. He palmed lower – her skirt was a flimsy, net-like material.

"What are you wearing?"

"A costume. A costume of a fairy."

"Why?"

"It is customary to dress up during the carnival. I was about to go to the street parade after checking on you."

This carnival thing was turning out more and more advantageous. As moronic as it was. The gods were with him.

"Take your coat off. And lead the way. To Hūyga compound."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and please share your thoughts with me!


	19. Country Mouse

**19\. Country Mouse**

**Rating:** E

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives, post 4th War AU. Continuation of prompts number 1 and 2.

**Idea:** me

* * *

Had the streets been also so narrow when they had built them first? He'd learned that there was a destruction recently, maybe they had been rebuilt this way afterwards? Madara looked around – no, the streets weren't really that narrow - it was that the buildings were so high that they were creating this impression. And the overflowing advertising plates and rollers and flags hanging everywhere, cluttering the view. And the people. People everywhere. You couldn't simply walk, there was always someone directly in front of you. You needed to move with the stream, as if in a river, and once your movement deviated from the general flow, people would stomp on you. That was very, very annoying.

But the girl, Sakura - as he learned in the restaurant when the waiter referred to her with this name -was navigating the streets and crowds with ease.

Madara looked sideways where she walked besides him with energy and in the same time grace in her step. 'Sakura-sama', the waiter had called her. She had laughed in embarrassment at the title, as if unaccustomed to it, but still... to even offer such title to a girl this young...?

"This way," she said and took a turn into one of the side streets. Thank gods. The shops in the last part of the main street had lights of the color Madara couldn't describe. Poisonous was coming to mind. Only 'poisonous' was a fitting description. Toxic green, yellow and pink. If those were commercials, Madara really failed to see their point. The commercials should _attract_ the customers. With those lights one could scare the enemy troops off. Or at least freak out the horses.

A relative darkness of a side street was a relief to Madara's eyes. He wondered if without the Sharingan he could dodge a simple kunai now, so desensitized his eyes were. Lights as weapons. Yes. He should remember that.

"It's on the other side of the city," said the girl in a way of explanation, "but the walk is really nice, through the park. I just moved in and I'm over the moon about this little place of mine."

City? When have this village become a city...?

She was correct, the park was indeed very aesthetically pleasing. Madara wondered how much resources went into it, and on which military goal they were _not_ spent... The thought was irking, so he pushed it away.

"So why did you choose that place?" Showing some interest wouldn't hurt. Madara was very out of touch with social interactions, but showing interest in other person's life was a common courtesy. Something he didn't have much use for in the cave. And until now they talked mostly impersonal topics. Somehow, at the beginning of the dinner, the conversation took a turn to chakra nature properties and its influences on body structure, and off they plummeted happily into the rabbit hole of theories and speculations. The girl was a surprisingly stimulating discussion partner. From in between the lines Madara figured out that she was a medic and a very knowledgeable one, a one that dabbled a lot in research.

But on the street their conversation broke and now the silence was palpable between them. A bit of courtesy wouldn't hurt. As far as he remembered, women liked when men paid attention to their affairs, however small and pedestrian they usually were.

"Have you moved out from another apartment? Was something wrong with your previous one?"

"Well, I moved out from my parents..."

Oh, that young...

"And what made you chose that, hmm.. faraway location?

"Hahaha, the prices? And it's a modern building, so I thought it's a wise choice... Smaller chances that something will break, and I will have to invest in repairs. I wouldn't really have time to deal with that. Actually, here we are." She stopped and pointed forwards.

They stood in front of the tallest and ugliest building Madara had ever seen. It was... rectangular. And, if that oppressive light of the streetlamps was doing any justice to it - completely grey.

"Uhm... thank you for walking me home. You really did have to..."

"I've told you already, that there are certain conventions that should be kept in every situation."

The girl, Sakura, wiggled a bit as if anxious. "Would you like to... ehm… come in?"

Madara suppressed the urge to arch his eyebrows. He wasn't expecting such forwardness. He rather thought that taking her for a proper dinner would somehow balance out the, admittingly very crude, treatment from the midday. A courtship in reverse order. He wasn't expecting a follow-up.

The girl opened the door pressing a combination of numbers on a rectangular, silver board of sorts. When she stepped inside, he found himself following. The girl (Sakura, Sakura, he should really switch to thinking about her by her name. Especially if he was about to fuck her for the second time the same day) looked at him from behind her shoulder. She bypassed the stairs and walked up to a small metal door. Unpleasant, artificial light was glowing through the window in the middle of it.

"Let's take the elevator," she said opening the small door, "It's the seventh floor and the view is to die for, but I'm not the greatest fan of our staircase, you see," she added as if in a way of apology. "It doesn't have any windows that you can open and it kind of smells in there…"

The space inside the chamber they stepped in was claustrophobically small. Madara didn't mind being in such close quarters with her, but the prospect of being closed up this way with some stranger… To make things worse the cabin started to move up. He thanked the gods that the girl was too busy digging in her purse to notice his face expression. He wondered how would he catch up on all those modern inventions without making a display out of his ignorance. Maybe he could genjutsu some bystander tomorrow and had him brief him in into all those idiotic technologies? Or to make it quicker – maybe he could just dig the victim's brain…?

The cabin stopped and the girl walked out, completely unphased. With a short click of the keys, she unlocked the door. He followed.

"So, there it is," she said with her hand still on the button she used to switch on the light.

He long didn't feel so out of place anywhere. Last time was on Daimyo's court not long after the village's foundation. There, the obnoxious decadency seeping from the walls that had been pissing him to no end. Here, it was almost the contrary. The space felt too small, too cramped. They barely fitted in the corridor and even the ceiling was too low.

Sakura must have perceived the vibes coming off from him, as she gestured at the balcony. "It is tiny, I know, but look at the view!" She switched the light off, grabbed his wrist and pulled at it. Madara smirked - apparently darkness was emboldening her. Not that she was lacking boldness to begin with.

He let her guide him through the room onto the balcony.

And he had to give it to her - the view shocked him. The sheer scope of the city Konoha had become... Lights everywhere, sprawling left and right from the Hokage monument rising directly in front of them, entire breadth of the city apart. The faces of village leaders were illuminated, each of them in a different color. Maybe there were some perks of _not_ being elected as Shodai thought Madara looking at Hashirama's face illuminated by garish, grass-green reflectors.

Over the edge of the cliff, a row of buildings similar to the one that held Sakura's apartment stood overlooking the city. The roads like bright veins spread from the centered formed by Hokage Residence. Even the clouds on the sky were tinted orange from all the glow.

"And? How do you like it?"

"Well… Aesthetic appeal is a subjective thing, and I would lie if I said that I find it beautiful. But it is certainly impressive. And," Madara squinted, "if you forget that this is a place that people have to inhabit, and forget how it used to look like before... If you look at it purely as on forms, shapes and colors – then, yes, it is beautiful."

The lights below flickered in hundreds of colors, reflecting from the leaves still wet from the evening's rain. They stood in silence until Sakura started to rub at her forearms and step from one foot to another. Madara turned his head examining her behavior.

"Uhm, I'm a bit cold," she explained herself.

In response he stepped into the apartment. He could manage its unpleasant ambience somehow. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. Where should he sit? In meanwhile Sakura seemed to notice the issue as she turned uncertainly around and, glimpsing repeatedly at him, walked up to the bed. Strange bed. Why would someone design a bed with legs? Wouldn't a normal futon suffice?

She sat down on it as if on a chair – well, that was definitely a use for such a bed – and patted the space next to her. "You can also sit here… If you want, of course…"

Well, he wanted. For a moment he thought about just turning her around and ramming in her, but that he had done already. Now there was no hurry. He would undress her slowly, unpack her like wrapped-up gift, lie her on that bed and play with her a bit. Discover all her reactions, find all the spots that made her squirm, make her reveal all the sounds she could produce… Oh, he would take his time, he thought approaching the bed. Sakura looked up at him.

Still standing he unbuttoned the first two nobs of that foreign-looking shirt she was wearing. He tilted his head – her skin was probably milky white but in that strange light seeping through the window it seemed bluish. He put one knee on the bed. Girl's hands moved towards his belt, but he pushed them away. If he wanted to go as slow as he imagined, then any additional stimulation would be contraproductive. Opening her shirt further he goaded her to lie down as he lowered himself on the mattress.

Her breasts were in some form of bindings, but he could deal with that later… He attached his lips to her pulse point and slid his hand under her skirt. Sakura arched into him and mewled. With one hand working relentlessly at her lower parts – though again, not much work was necessary there – Madara set on a journey across her chest with his lips and the fingertips of the other hand. The girl was bending and twisting like ribbon.

Maybe he could make her come just like that? Just with his hands? Would that be an appropriate remuneration for that rough treatment from earlier? Still through the fabric, he circled the thumb around her pearl while sucking at the nipple – half-freed by now from constraints of that complicated contraption she wore on her chest. Sakura exhaled and opened her legs even wider. He was almost lying on her now, trying his best not to crush her under his weight, but she seemed not to be minding it. She kept grinding and arching towards him, into his hands and with every move of his finger he was making her sing prettier.

He kept trying out different rhythms, different ways to touch, until at a certain movement of his fingers she started to pant. He kept going. As he was touching her body only very superficially, he, regrettably, didn't really feel her finish. Only her loud moan and sudden wave of tension going through her body made him aware of it. Well, something to improve during the second round, he thought pushing her underwear to the side and probing her opening.

She was so lax that at first his ministrations evoked no reaction. He plunged his finger deep, as deep as he could and she finally reacted – snapped her eyes open and gripped at his shoulders as if in alarm. He jabbed at her again and she yelped. Satisfied with having her full attention again, he withdrew, added another finger and started to pump.

She shifted her hips towards him and responded, meeting him half-way. It got more difficult to restrain himself now, as imagining his cock in place of his fingers was almost an automatic reaction. Madara was hard to the point of pain. He took a deep breath and to distract himself, he latched his mouth to the girl's ear. All these intricate patterns to explore and trace, and to discover which spot would make her jerk when touched with his tongue – that should occupy him well enough. The girl mewled and twisted for him.

He curled his fingers, trying to drive her to another finish. He could press with the heel of his palm, that would have probably brought a quicker result but he was curious if he, and she for that matter, could manage without it. He tapped a fast rhythm inside her, there, where she seemed the most sensitive. Her heels dug into the mattress. Then they kicked. Good that he was almost lying on her because she would have kicked him. He didn't falter and kept pressing at the same point inside her, determined to draw another release form her. When it came and he felt her spasming around his fingers, he didn't hold it – he ground against her hip seeking some, even most measly, form of stimulation for himself.

She slacked again and he rolled off her. He didn't know what he expected, maybe her curling up and falling asleep, maybe suggesting that he should leave. He certainly didn't expect that she would start to undress him. With slow and sluggish hands, she opened his belt and his robe. She didn't have quite the arms' reach to push it off his shoulders so he helped. Then she made a pause with his clothing and started to pepper kisses all over his chest. No, he certainly didn't expect this kind of caresses, that type of persistence after the two releases that she just had.

Only after she traced his entire front with the kisses, she resumes with the undressing. With some trial and error, she found a way to untie his trousers. He helped her out of her skirt, with the top she had to help him, because that contraption on her chest remained a mystery to him. When they finally lied naked in the dark room with only light coming from city lights reflecting from the clouds, she opened her legs and pulled him into her. Despite all the anticipation built-up through handling her minutes long, he didn't want to go fast. He sank slowly, cherishing every centimeter of her. She was like a scorching liquid around him and under him. He didn't even know if he rocked her or she rocked him, nor how long it lasted. When she fell over the edge again, she pulled him with her as her waves crashed all around him.

He didn't retreat from her, kept lying, covering her with his weight. She didn't seem to mind.

When he hardened again and moved, she barely responded, apparently too tired to participate more. He slipped out of her and flipped her over. Mounting her from the behind, holding her by the nape, he slowly fucked his own essence deeper and deeper into her until his second release found him and mixed with the first. The girl beneath him barely stirred. He rolled off her, gather her to his chest and after pulling covers over them, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! ;) Please share your thoughts!


	20. Frozen

**20\. Frozen**

**Rating:** T

 **Verse:** Fairytale AU

 **Inspiration/idea** : Kotoffeya, who drew my attention to classical Russian fairytale Morozko

For all who suffer in the cold...

* * *

He saw an elderly man driving the sledge into the forest. In such a weather? And so late in the evening? Who went timber-working at that hour? But the man had two horses, so good chance that he would manage to the other side of the forest.

How surprised Madara was when the man stopped the sledge, retrieved some bundle from the back and with effort threw it into the snowdrift. Then he turned the horses and rode back.

Madara neared. The bundle moved.

Out of the snow a fur hood emerged, a pair of mittens dug the way out. Like swimming in the snow, a small statue rowed towards the sledge tracks. Soon in the greying light of dusk a girl stood on the path. She shook the snow off her coat and skirts, skipped up couple of times – the snow must have gotten into her undergarments - and readjusted her mittens. Then she turned around. She took some time looking in the direction where the sledges disappeared. A sad time, seemed to Madara. For a moment he thought that she would follow the tracks. Unwise. She should conserve her strength – whoever left her here had to return for her – it was her only chance.

The girl looked around the forest – spruce branches covered with thick layer of snow. Snow knee-deep all around. And greyish daylight fading with every minute.

Madara stepped closer.

The girl rubbed her cheeks – was she crying? What had even happened? That man pushed her off the sledge on purpose. Did he leave her here to die? Madara suppressed a sigh – was it another bad harvest this year? Too many mouths to feed?

Surprisingly, the girl, instead of huddling under the trees, readjusted her hood and started marching. In the opposite direction from where she came.

Madara matched her pace and made himself visible on the physical plane. The girl jerked and almost jumped. But then she halted and bowed politely. She didn't address him, and after this one momentary stop, she picked up her pace and kept going. He walked along.

"Are you warm, girl?" Madara asked.

"Well," the girl half-turned to him still walking briskly, "I would lie if I said that I am. But that's how it is now, isn't it?"

Madara breathed out. A wave of bone-shattering cold expanded from his lips.

The girl trembled. "No matter how cold I am, we both have not much choice here, don't we? We just have to do what we have to do…"

"What do you mean?" Madara almost stopped. No one ever talked to him this way.

"Well, you will try to freeze me. I will try to survive."

"You're saying it as if you weren't upset by that."

"I'm not. That's just the way of the world."

They walked in silence for a moment. A strand of girl's hair slipped out of the hood – it was pink. Combined with her green eyes she looked like an impersonation of spring. How ironic. Because she won't live to see the next spring. She will freeze. He breathed out again.

The girl hugged herself tighter.

"Still alright, lass?"

"As alright as I can be, given the circumstances."

"Where are you even going?"

"Next village."

"Why? Why not returning home?"

"I have nothing to look for there anymore…"

"Why?" Madara stopped. To his great surprise, she so did she. She stopped to answer his question even though by just walking further she would have left the aura of acute frost that was around him.

"It was my father who dumped me there. I have nowhere to return to. They don't want me there anymore." The girl sniffed but immediately squared her shoulders. "So, I just need to keep going. If I keep going my blood will keep flowing and it will prevent me from freezing. Then it is just a numbers game for you and me. If I ran out of energy before I reach the next village then you take me. If I don't – I survive."

"You don't hate me?"

"Why would I? You are a force of nature. You just _are_."

"You're a very strange girl…" Her cheeks were so red, he could almost see the blood flowing within the vessels. He didn't restrain himself and touched her cheek with one finger. She bit her lips but didn't flinch. "You don't hate me even now? When I'm hurting you?"

"You just are who you are. You cannot otherwise. Why would I hate you for that?"

"In contrast to your father, I suppose?"

"My father?" the girl laughed. It was the last thing Madara expected to hear. "No, I don't hate him either. He's a weak, beaten up man, old and deprived of his own will. I feel only sorry for him… I don't hate my stepmother either… What she did, makes sense… She did it for her own daughter. I could never honestly expect her to prioritize me, why would she? We all just do what we have to do…"

The girl picked up her pace.

"So, what will you do in the next village? Any family there?"

"No. I don't know anyone there."

"Then… How are you planning to survive?"

"I just need to make it to the spring. Just to the spring. I will sleep with the animals in the barn, I will take up any work, I will beg if I have to. It is already the end of January. Only until the roads are free."

"You sure have it all well thought through… So what will you do once the spring comes?" Madara never saw the spring. He only heard about it from wistful tales of people in the forest, musing about the gentle warmth of the sun and open soil under their feet and plants coming to life.

"Well, I'm a fast thinker, I guess." She shrugged. "In the spring," the girl looked up into the dark sky. "In the spring, I'll go further… I've heard there is a woman several villages away, a woman that lives alone in the forest. A healer. She can mend bones and chase out diseases and knows about childbirthing. Some call her a witch. Some call her just a drunken old hag. I will go to her. Maybe she takes me for an apprentice…"

Madara chuckled. "No dreams of getting married and getting a flock of kids of your own?"

The girl sent him a heavy look. "Nope. And I don't have a dowry anyhow."

The girl started to beat her arms against her sides in the rhythm of her steps.

"You alright?" asked Madara once again.

"My fingers are getting numb."

"And your toes?"

"Well, numb for a long while already… I keep curling them since the very beginning. It makes walking really odd. But for sure they would have been much worse off without it."

She didn't speak more for another couple of minutes. Or hours. He didn't know. Human time flowed differently and Madara didn't have much grasp on it. But she was slowing down.

"Are you alright? Are you cold? Your cheeks are so red that I can see it even in the moonlight…" Especially her left one, there, where he had touched her. The blemish was almost black.

The girl let out a heavy exhale. "It is getting harder; I have to admit it."

Madara let it sink. The girl slowed down even more. It looked as if she had to pull her leg up with the weight of her entire body for every step. "I don't want to sound too discouraging, but… I don't think you'll manage. The village is too far away."

The girl took another pained step. "I will… Just… Do my best…"

Madara stayed a bit back, allowing her to exit his freezing aura.

The girl turned back. "Don't stay behind. I don't think it matters much. That cold you're emitting isn't making much of a difference anymore. I don't even feel it anymore. And it's nicer to have someone around."

She lifted her leg and didn't manage to tear her shoe from the snow. She swayed, stepped back into the hollow made by her foot and breathed heavily. Couple of second later she tried again with renewed ferocity. This time she succeeded and took the step. Before next one, she waited, apparently bracing herself for the effort.

After a dozen of excruciatingly slow and inefficient steps, she turned from the path towards the nearest tree. Good thinking - the snow might be shallower under the cover of branches. But it didn't help her much, her speed barely increased. She was breathing so heavily and Madara refrained from comments – talking would cost her too much energy.

Finally, the girl propped herself against the trunk of a tall spruce. "Well, it seems that I won't manage in the end…" she laughed. Her lips weren't pink anymore, but white. But there was still color in her hair, and in her eyes. And on her cheeks – they were almost black now. "That's a pity… I really wanted to be a healer… If I could once save someone else's life – wouldn't it be beautiful? Or to ease someone's pain?"

She extended her hand towards low-hanging branches of another spruce and pulled herself towards it. Some snow fell on her hood and on her face, but she didn't remove it, just stood there, heaving with effort. "No matter…" Madara saw her smiling. "No matter… If I won't survive, someone else will, right? Everyone is so hungry now during the winter… Someone else will take me up and maybe thanks to me will make it through until spring?" She slowly sank down sliding her spine along the trunk. "What will I become? Will I be a wolf? A crow? Maybe some small part of me will be a mouse…?"

Madara crouched next to her.

"Will you undress me when I'm gone? So that whatever comes to eat me won't have to dig through all these layers?"

Madara stared in shock. What a last wish.

"Can you even do it? Undress me, I meant? Are you even real?" she asked, but her eyes were already unfocused.

"Yes, I am real…" Madara extended his hand and undid a ribbon holding her hood. "I'm real. See?"

"Good…"

"I could… I could take you back…"

The girl didn't open her eyes.

"There was another girl once," Madara continued, "she was also left in the forest to die. I asked her whether she was cold, but she kept telling me she was warm. It was so strange, she spoke so meekly, not a single word of complain. I… I pitied her. I returned her to her parents, with a chest of jewels…"

Girls eyes slowly opened. "Have it ever occurred to you that maybe she was telling you that she was warm because she wanted to die?"

"To die?! No! Why?" He never understood mortals very well, but this was too far-fetched. Didn't all living things want to keep on living?

"Maybe because her life was so full of misery that the soft and painless death in the forest was a better way out. That any death was a better way out…"

"Why wouldn't she take her life then?"

Girl's head rolled to the side. "Maybe she was afraid… Or maybe her god didn't let her…"

"And you don't believe in that god?"

"I sure don't believe in gods that tell you to suffer in silence." For a shortest moment the previous ferocity sounded back in her voice. But then her head fell down and she didn't say anything more, as if having spent too much energy on that outburst.

"In what do you believe then?" asked Madara softly.

"In life. In life… That the spring will come no matter if I breathe or not," she answered not opening her eyes.

"Do you want to go back?"

"No… I want to go to that old hag and be a healer."

"You won't manage through the winter. If I take you to the next village the villagers won't take you up."

The girl didn't answer.

Madara knelt in front of her. Her hood slid down and her hair spilled. Pink like petals of those trees he had ever seen only from very far.

"Come and live with me. Keep me company until the end of winter. I will get you to that healer when spring comes…"

Girl opened her eyes once again and smiled at him. "Company? What kind of company?" She extended her hand. It travelled so slowly through the space between them that Madara didn't know if it was his perception of human time or was it just all the speed that the girl could now manage. He also didn't quite understand the purpose in her gesture, until she stroked along his cheek and put her fingers against his lips. He could see how they become transparent from the cold of his skin. "That kind of company? All other things aside… All of them aside… that's a treacherous proposal… Because how would I ever become a healer with a babe on my hip?"

"If there is a child I will take to my domain once it's born. I thought since a long time already that I would need a helper…"

The girl smiled and held a strand of his hair.

"And you can come for every winter when my domain is over the land."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and please tell me what you think about this retelling (and feminist-make over) of this fairytale.


	21. Footsteps on the Moon

**21\. Footsteps on the Moon**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** unspecified, Madara-lives post 4th war AU

**Idea:** me

* * *

Two precisely placed kunai and the both brats lie dead. Quick, clean deaths. They fought well, they deserved it.

He turns towards the girl. She kneels, eyes wide and unseeing, stares between corpses of her teammates, as if not being able to decide to which one to crawl. Tears stream down her face. He sees wet spots on the dust - the moonlight is so bright that he can see them.

She raises her face to him, and then something flashes on it, displaces the despair. A surprise, a hint of… What is it? Satisfaction? What can she be satisfied about? What is she looking at that is behind his back? Madara's brain short-circuits. He hasn't survived a hundred years for nothing. He's conditioned to take every possibility into account, even the most improbable one.

He spins. Arm of Black Zetsu grazes over his ribs. It tears on his flesh, and a part of his brain wonders how can a hand be so sharp.

Despite the pain Madara grabs creature's throat. The black slime tries to slip away but genjutsu is faster. He sets the black globe it reverted to on fire with Amaterasu and watches it burn until no ashes remain.

Having dealt with the last opponent he turns back to the girl. She still sits in the same place, only that now her head hangs low.

She presents exactly zero danger. She was neglectable during the fight and now she is rendered completely useless. The dead could hurt him more than her. More harmless than a corpse. Harmless like a newborn kitten. Tagged along her team on accident, nothing special, nothing remarkable, of civilian blood from the looks of it. She should be asleep, dreaming happily with the rest.

Instead, she kneels here.

And cries.

He cannot connect her to the tree anymore, the jutsu has already been cast.

He could kill her, of course.

Something in Madara protests against killing a helpless, harmless creature. Not responsible for being here.

Despite himself he walks up to her. Then he could still pretend that it's because he wants the killing blow to be painless. Even thought on some level he already knows that he cannot.

She doesn't react. Something must have gone wrong with her mind. He should kill her in such a case. Maybe it will be a mercy if she lost her mind.

He draws the kunai.

The girl reacts - edges away from him, falls on her bottom, crawls...

Frantically claws at the dirt trying to pull herself away from him. She wants to live, concludes Madara. Let it be then.

"Come girl," he sheathes the blade and extends his arm to her. When she reacts only with crawling further away, he bends lower and grabs her arm. "We're going." He pulls her up, and he feels that she complies only due to the pain in the twisted wrist.

On her feet she comes to her senses; tugs, kicks and tries to free herself. Attempts on some punches. But he holds her. Not to be further disturbed by her flailing, he quietly drains her chakra using Rinnegan ability. Finally, the girl sways and stops struggling.

"What do you want from me? Let me go!" she protests instead.

"Let you go? Really? Do you want to stay here among the dreamers and corpses?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cannot leave you here, can l? You are my responsibility. As all the others are. You wanted to live. You fought for it like an idiot, alongside other idiots. Then I'll grant you that."

He grabs her wrists harder and activates Shinra Tensei. One of the beauties of Rinnegan is that one doesn't need seals. Pure power of will is enough.

Earth disappears from under his feet. Forever.

The girl screams and resumes her struggles. Some hundred meters above the ground she stops, apparently having realized that if he lets her go now, she will fall to her death. Then she only keeps shifting her perplexed gaze between him and disappearing earth.

They fly up and up and up.

The night is beautiful, blue-white moon shining like a lantern just above their heads.

When they land on it, the finest dust rises from under their feet and dances in never-ending swirls. All is blue-white as if the ground itself was emitting the light. And all is quiet.

With a corner of his eye Madara sees the girl turning, looking around. She seems so lost. No wonder – there is nothing around them, nothing at all save vague geological formations here and there on the horizon.

He needs to stay here, pump his chakra into the moon, perpetuate the genjutsu at least until the last of the captured men lives to the end of his days. His own chakra, thanks to Jūbi is unlimited. What will the girl do?

Madara places his palm on the ground. Out of grey, faintly glowing dust a building emerges: walls, roof, yard.

"Go there," he tells the girl. "It's yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious what you think about this drabble, it is so out there, but I like it! :)


	22. Obituaries

**22\. Obituaries**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Modern!AU

**Inspiration/Idea:** yomi-gaeru and Marquise de Nile who had independently the same idea!

* * *

Sakura opened the newspaper. Ignoring the international and national news alike she leafed the pages further. Skimmed through local news, even though, flipped through those awful page-sized advertisements of supermarkets' discounts, until towards the end of the newspaper she found what she was looking for. The obituaries.

With the held breath she studied one after another, ignoring the names printed in tasteful black cursive filtering out only if they were masculine or not and carefully studying the following text.

"Beloved father, grandfather, and great-grandfather…" - no.

"After long sickness has left the family struck with…" – no.

"Shaped and formed minds of generations of students of our Department and through his almost 50-years long career…" – no.

"Has left us abruptly…" Sakura tilted her head and read forward. "… too early and without a goodbye. Great coworker, whose professionalism and engagement contributed to the success of our company…" Signed by the board of an investment company, for who they were calling their valued and irreplaceable 'consultant'.

A consultant… Hmm… that might be it. The name was Omori Sōgen. Sakura scanned the rest of the obituaries. The name appeared once again. A tennis club was announcing the passing away of the member of its presidium under the same name.

She noted it down, but kept her excitement at bay. She had already twice the case when she was sure that that's it and then it wasn't. Not going there for the third time. It costed her enough tears.

The next day she read the obituaries again.

There it was.

"In silent grief and unwavering hope of seeing you again, in a life past this one. Your always loving companion…" A short and loving message from a grief-stricken lover. Hmm, Madara had a way with words. The name signed underneath was the one they had made up for this occasion. Aiko Kyōyama.

Sakura straightened up on her chair feeling her chest expand from a surge of anticipation and adrenaline. And happiness. Here we go. Now it's her part. Here. We. Go.

Just to make herself absolutely sure Sakura quickly googled the address of the tennis club. Mirai District. Ok, rich enough. And kind of ironic that he was so close to her all the time. For how many months of not seeing him? Of missing him everyday? Of wondering if he was still alive? Pain like a thin blade stabbed into Sakura's chest but she ignored it. No sense to dwell on it now. She would see him soon enough.

She brought the cardboard box with newspapers form previous weeks. She had an abo for the online version of the local newspaper, of course, but she had already learned that not all the articles, especially the minor ones were features online. What a scam, by the way.

Methodically, she started going through the most local section. Five days ago, a house burnt down in a residential area of Mirai district. An unfortunate gas leakage, one person dead. Bingo, bingo, bingo.

She briefly wondered who had died in Madara's place… Probably some poor homeless soul that would not be missed and certainly never reported missing.

Only for her own enjoyment she studied the news from adjacent days. Three days ago, an act of vandalism in the parking of municipal hospital sent seventeen cars burning and inflicted serious damage to the highest level of the parking tower. Madara really had a thing for fires didn't he…? Municipal hospital was where the forensic samples were being tested. Sakura pursed her lips - he would bear another nasty scar if he really substituted the samples. She cringed at the though of Madara cutting out his own flesh and burning it over something (Over what? His home cooking stove? A blow-torch? Just how creepy was that?) to pass it for the sample of the fire victim. But they wanted to be sure. DNA analysis was the ultimate evidence.

She was tempted to localize the burnt-down house, to see where and how he had lived. Stupid idea. She should focus on her part of the plan. She didn't need to feed herself on substitutes, on memories, on dreams, not anymore. Soon she would see Madara again.

Sakura laughed to herself. Soon she would know if that was really his name. When they got to know each other better he told her this name: Uchiha Madara. She wasn't stupid enough to ask if this was real, but he immediately offered her an explanation that this was the one he liked best. Best among the 15+ identities he had at hand. So, whatever it was – real or not – that was how she was calling him when they were meeting in motels on the highway, sitting in the movies on carefully chosen adjacent places with separately bought tickets, crossing their paths in the forest after a two-hour long hike from two opposite directions.

They were so careful. So careful.

Four years they kept on it, four years of longing and fear kept in check with most careful planning.

They started to talk about a final solution a year and half ago.

Neither his nor her agency would ever let them go. Theirs was a service for life. Either life lost on some mission – the longer Sakura served the more convinced she was that all those mission served only the interests of this or another current political fraction and not the good of any citizens – or if you were really, really lucky – life lived out on retirement in luxurious villa somewhere in Caribbean with knowledge that all your movements would forever be under tightest observation.

They needed to die. And to die convincingly.

He just did. Now was her turn.

Sakura retrieved a bag packed for the occasion good half a year ago. All new clothes, never worn, all bought for cash in five different shops. She dug through it critically, removing some obviously impractical items. She expected to pull off their stunt in summer, after the planned end of his mission in South America (or at least she assumed it was in South America), now it was winter. She had been dying inside for the last four months, obsessively checking the obituaries, waiting for the signal. Stopping herself form panicking, halting those thoughts, that he had died exactly then when they decided to break free, at bay.

A brand-new winter jacket in, a pair of climbing-grade gloves in. A summer dress she wanted to show herself in to Madara out. No place for sentimentality.

Maybe it was better that it was winter. The water would be even more dangerous, no one, really no one would risk the lives of the divers.

Sakura checked the weather. Tomorrow they were forecasting frost in the morning. Perfect.

She wasn't going to substitute her body. She would just make sure that no one would ever be able to prove the lack of it.

The reservoir of the hydropower plant was deep, the walls steep. And there, where she wanted to have her car fall, the water was already being sucked into the turbines. A certain death. Not only for her, but also for the police divers.

She still remembered from back when she had been still a kid and her father had been taking her to see another powerplant being built, back there where they had lived. The turbines twenty meters high, a battery of ten of them, and when with all of them turned-on the created current was powerful enough to suck in an entire truck and not only her light-weighed cabrio. It will be pressed to the crates and never, ever recovered. They would have to switch on the entire powerplant off, which they would not. And now, in the middle of winter, when entire metropolis depended on it, even more surely not.

Sakura was taking one curve after another. The waters of the lake were already shining blue some fifty meters below. She dialed the number of her most annoying acquaintance and put her on camera. With a pleasant smile and fake interest, she engaged in a small talk. Ten minutes into jarring office gossip and occasional jabs about her 'bad luck' in finding a partner, Sakura deemed it enough even though she wasn't quite at her destination yet. With practiced, staged fear she grabbed at the wheel, had the car wobble on the road couple of times and proceeded to scream. Frantically flailing she hit the phone and made it fall into a box hanging prepped below the phone holder. She stopped the car, covered the lid and shook the box some more. She could still hear her friend's voice from the inside.

Sakura sighed and apathetically shaking the box with one hand, she opened a lid of a larger container standing at passenger's leg-space. She dropped the box with the phone into the water that was in it and waited for the bubbles to stop. That should do. She fished her dead phone out and dumped it onto the car's floor.

Now the tricky part. She quickly took off the dress, tore a fragment of it and dump it into the car. Starting with the knife, and then with a sharp stone (for more naturalistic effect, in case some idiot would still want to switch off the entire powerplant and haul the car) she tore a huge opening in the roof of her cabrio. Then she cut her forearm and smeared some blood on the front window and around the steering wheel. Finally, she was done.

Good that her car had remote control. She had it installed three years ago for some mission and in meantime she became quite skilled in using it. She checked once again the guardrail in the crucial place – barely hanging on the screws, just as she left it a month ago. Throwing the backpack on her shoulder Sakura climbed up the cliff, took out the remote and made her car pick up the speed. She felt like an 8-year old boy when she guided the car through the serpentines. She pressed the acceleration to the max and held her breath.

The car broke through the barrier and flew in a graceful parabole. Narrowingly missing couple of pines it plunged into the water. Perfect. Simply perfect.

The bike was hidden in the bushes couple of hundred meters down the road. Air in the tires, the gear well oiled, crucial parts covered with plastic to keep the rain away. Twenty kilometers steep downhill to the nearest town should have been a quick and easy ride, but it turned out bloody, bloody cold. But it didn't matter. In the town there was a car waiting for her, a car she had bought eight months ago, for cash in a village on the other coast. And then just a drive south, to another town by the border. Where he would be waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very curious to hear what do you think about this crazy little James Bond-like AU!


	23. Rocks and Gems

**23\. Rocks and Gems**

**Rating:** K

**Verse:** Hokage Madara by victoriacapo

**Idea:** creation of the AU and of Masaru - victoriacapo, plot of the drabble - me

* * *

"Seriously. Madara. What have you been thinking giving a kid of three a stone worth half of a village?" Sakura sent him a look that could incinerate the said half of the village. "And this isn't even a question!" she interjected when he was opening his mouth to explain that he had told Masaru very precisely what had been hung on his neck. "This is a purely rhetorical question! Because I already know what you were thinking! Absolutely nothing! You weren't thinking absolutely anything!"

Madara inadvertly edged a bit away from his wife's finger furiously poking him in the middle of the chest.

He glanced at Masaru – he was sitting at the table, building a tower from his rice. With his hands. Madara gritted his teeth. Exactly three minutes earlier he scolded the kid about exactly the same thing. Actually, first he told him that there are norms at the table. Then he told he not to be wasteful with his food as there are people in the world who would be very happy to even have that meal. He was sure Masaru understood. He was such a bright boy. His son stayed calm for a minute, and then, when Madara's attention was back at conversation with Sakura, he restarted his construction project. It was on purpose, Madara was sure. The kid was clearly testing his patience.

That was what Sakura was always complaining about. That damn stubbornness and inclination to seek conflict. To poke, and jab and tease until the other person lost their nerve. Masaru seemed to enjoy it. Madara really didn't know how to navigate a conflict with his own son. Especially if he was three. _'I got lucky'_ he thought two minutes ago when the case of missing necklace diverted their attention and provided an excuse not to address Masaru's misbehavior again. He really didn't know how to handle the situation of his in-your-face defiance. With anyone else he would have resorted to enforcing his will. With Masaru he didn't want to go this way.

_'_ _I got lucky'_ , he thought two minutes ago.

Now he was facing a furious Sakura. Not so lucky anymore.

"When did you give it to him?"

"Yesterday evening. When I was putting him to bed. And I explained to him that.."

"He's three! He doesn't understand shit! And in case you haven't noticed yet, he's made defying us into his life-goal!"

Madara raised his eyebrows. Sakura was clearly missing the work in the hospital, it seemed. That extended maternity leave was making her slightly delusional when it came to the boy.

Sakura took a deep breath. "There was no necklace on his neck in the morning," she said with studied calm.

"Alright. Let's search his bedroom then."

Three hours later they found it. Masaru must have taken an advantage of the unusual hardness of the stone and used it to dislodge a wooden board inside the wardrobe. Apparently, the pointed tip of the crystal was also a good fit for the screws in the wardrobe as a make-shift screwdriver... They found the jewel lying under the pile of clothes where their son must have dropped it when he heard Sakura approaching.

Madara waited almost four years until he presented it to him again. He wanted his son to have it. The stone carried a lot of meaning to him. Hashirama gave it to him when he became Hokage. He had said it contained his dream to unite the people, and that since he had been now living his dream, Madara could have the stone to put his hopes into it.

The necklace helped him a lot. Madara didn't believe in the 'container of hope' sentimental bullshit of Hashirama, but the stone made tailed beasts tame. Or tamer.

And now, looking at his son, he had a feeling that all his dreams had been fulfilled. That he had no right, or no reason, to hold on to the stone.

It wasn't the stone that brought him luck. It was his own doing. But it wouldn't hurt to pass it on.

And that taming effect… It wouldn't be bad if it worked on human children as well…

Because Masaru was a little devil.

He would do each and every thing he was forbidden to. And then he would deny doing it with the straightest face. Or argument with loopholes that followed such a peculiar logic, that they put adult brains into a standstill.

And he was plainly mean. He liked making people upset. Madara had an impression he was somehow feeding off the negative emotions he was evoking. Taming really wouldn't hurt.

So, when Masaru was six, he tried again.

"Son. You may not remember, but I gave it to you once." Madara fished out the stone from his pocket and let in dangle in front of the boy's eyes. He had to smile. Masaru had something from a cat, and this acute, predatory focus that was now directed at the necklace made Madara smile. And he had to smile as well because it was staggering how the boy's green eyes, the green eyes he had from Sakura, corresponded exactly to the shade of the stone.

"I don't."

"Last time you used it as a screwdriver. I hope it won't repeat itself. You have to be aware that this stone alone is worth more than most of the families in this village would earn during their entire lives. I give it to you because I believe in you. And in your responsibility."

Was it still too early? But Madara just wanted so much to give him everything he could. He couldn't wait. And there was so little time he was spending with him anyhow.

Sakura would have known better, but he wasn't risking another confrontation with her. If Masaru succeeded now, and didn't get into trouble with the necklace, then Sakura would have to accept the _status quo_. And in the worst case they would dig the entire compound through. Masaru wasn't leaving the house much anyhow. Not after all the neighbours complained about their abused cats.

Masaru furrowed his eyebrows. "I want it!"

"Promise me that you will take better care of it than the last time." Madara sat down on his heels and put the necklace onto Masaru's palm. "A friend gave it to me. He was a bit stupid, that friend of mine," he saw a glimmer of attention in Masaru's eyes. His son liked talking people down, and he must have felt a camaraderie with Madara now. "And he believed that this stone makes wishes come through. He said that his dream had come true and therefore he doesn't need the stone anymore. So, he gave it to me. My dreams also came true. So now you can have it."

Masaru grinned closing his fist around the stone. He looked up to him with glee. Madara wondered what were exactly Masaru's dreams… Something was telling him they weren't very noble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please tell me what you think!


	24. Smoke and Fire

**24\. Smoke and Fire**

**Rating:** K

**Verse:** Hokage Madara AU by Victoriacapo

**Inspiration/Idea:** plot of the snippet by me, verse and creation of Masaru by Victoriacapo

* * *

"He is too young for that! Much too young!"

"No, he's not. It is a perfectly common age to learn a jutsu."

"A jutsu! _A_ jutsu! Like an Henge! Or Water-Walking! With those I would have been perfectly fine. But you're talking about teaching him Katon!" Sakura didn't even want to scream. It was just turning out this way.

"That's Uchiha most traditional jutsu. A clan-jutsu." Madara tore off a half of bun and started to methodically dismantle it into smaller and smaller pieces. "It has… significance… And I never expected I will be teaching it to anyone…"

"I understand." Sakura took a deeper breath. "But it is simply dangerous. He will burn himself. He can set himself on fire! And stop that – you're crumbling on the table!"

"Sorry." Madara swiped the crumbs on his plate. "But he won't get hurt. You own fire doesn't burn you."

Sakura stared. "What do you mean?"

"Never thought about it? How can any Katon user spew actual fire from his mouth? How can Mizukage produce acid in the air she exhales? Or lava, for that matter?"

"Hmm… I think I've never thought about that. Fire techniques became rare in Konoha once the Uchiha were gone… And with Suiton or Doton it is not that obvious." Sakura paused for a moment considering all the implications and possible uses of the phenomenon. "Even if harmless to him, he can be a real danger to his surroundings. What if he decides that instead of using his fists and teeth it would be more efficient to set the one who currently irritates him on fire?"

Madara tilted his head. "Well, you cannot exclude that… But according to this logic we should have never put a kunai into his hand nor taught him how to channel chakra…"

Sakura sighed. "Which might have actually been a correct course of action. But it's kind of too late for that…" She glanced sideward at Madara. "And would be a really bizarre to raise the son of Hokage as a civilian," she laughed.

She decided not to argue further. The next morning found them standing at the lake behind the old Uchiha district. She on the one shore, Madara with Masaru on the other.

Masaru was currently stomping, his fists balled, his face contorted in an angry grimace.

"But I'm doing just that!" Sakura could hear his screams even from the opposite side of the lake.

She didn't hear Madara's answer. But she could imagine what it was. Concentrate on your chakra, let it move through you on its own. Unlike when you do water walking, now let your chakra off the leash. Sakura saw Madara repeating the seals once again. Seals done so slowly made the execution of the jutsu more difficult - it was like with riding a bike - at some point slow is too slow. But Madara managed. A ball of fire roared and flew over the surface of the water. Hovered around the middle of the pond it like a bird for a moment, supported by the output from Madara's mouth.

Sakura knew that was nothing close to Madara real capabilities. Had he gone all out, the entire shore would be burning, her included. Heck, probably half of a village would be burning. But with Masaru one needed to be careful. He was getting angry so quickly, frustrated at slightest failure. It was better not to set the bar too high, else he would throw a fit.

The second thoughts about teaching him fireball jutsu already now still hadn't left Sakura entirely. Masaru could use it frivolously once he knows it. If he sets some other kid on fire that will be... very difficult to handle. For a son of Hokage to act against fellow villagers…? But Masaru didn't one bit about what consequences his actions had to other people, not even to his own parents. Maybe even to her and Madara the least of all - he was taking them for granted.

In meantime Masaru stood broader on his legs. Each time she looked at him, she was feeling a pang in her chest. Still so small, arms and legs still short, head big made even bigger by the shag of black hair. Madara's hair, her eyes. That curve of lips and narrowing of eyes that was uniquely Masaru. All that future enclosed in such a tiny body; very much a person already, and very much the same person she had borne. His mimics forming an unbroken line since his first conscious smiles, his character so uniquely his, his facial features as they were back then, when she first took him into her arms. Sure, he grew, sure he changed - but Sakura could still see that newborn baby, wet and wailing and clutching at her. He grew, but still… Still so vulnerable, and hers, hers, hers.

Masaru bent back taking the biggest inhale possible, weaved the signs - perfectly, even from the distance Sakura could tell by looking at Madara's body language - and exhaled. A dark grey puff of smoke escaped from his mouth with a very peculiar whizzing sound. Masaru covered his mouth with both hands and started coughing.

Well, apparently learning a fire jutsu came with its pitfalls. Madara patted the boy gently on the back while Masaru still fought through a suffocating coughing fit.

He didn't succeed this day. Nor the next one. Nor five days later when Madara found again some time to go train with him. Sakura had never seen Masaru so frustrated before. Usually he was picking up all skills in a matter of minutes, and now, for the first time ever he facing a failure. He was going around sulking, apparently not being able to forget about his shortcoming.

It was two weeks or so after the first training, when Sakura heard Masaru's scream.

"Mama! Maamaaaa!"

That wasn't the usual angry protest-screaming, nor that particular tone of wailing that he was making when he hurt himself. That was fear. Sakura ran.

The half of the room was on fire.

One heartbeat of panic that rendered her brain free of thought. And then another heartbeat, when she could think again. Masaru was standing in the middle of the room. The paper wall leading to the garden was burning, and so was the wardrobe.

Sakura pounced and grabbed him into her arms, scanning for injury. Still holding him to her chest, and transferring diagnostic chakra, with her left hand she weaved the seals of a basic Suiton jutsu.

Fire wasn't big, she put it down with three streams of water. Masaru wasn't hurt either. Not a single scratch.

"What have you been doing?!" Sakura dropped him on the floor and shook him by the shoulders. "Do you know what would have happened?! Why did you use Katon inside the house?!" she screamed at him.

"I didn't know that it will burn! How should I have known that it will burn so much?!" Her son screamed back at her. "I didn't know, okay?! Okay?!"

Sakura sagged on the floor and pressed her palms to her face. Deep breath. She moved her hands away from her face, extended them towards Masaru and pressed her son tightly to her chest. "Now you know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please tell me you thoughts! :)


	25. Cure

**25\. Cure**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Warring Clans Era AU

**Inspiration/Idea:** me

* * *

Izuna fell. Face front. That cursed Senju was about to deliver the finishing blow when Madara jumped into the scene. The enemy took a step backwards, obviously calculating his chances. Madara charged forwards.

As expected, the Senju, spineless as always, shunshined away.

Madara fell onto his knees next to the unmoving body.

"Izuna! Izuna!"

Instead of words only blood escaped his brother's lips.

"Hold on. Izuna, hold on there. I'll get you out of here. All will be fine. Just save your strength."

He could get him out, of course he could. But what then? The wound in his brother's chest looked horrendous. And his breathing was getting whistling. As if something was punctured inside of him. Madara gulped. One didn't survive such wounds. Even with the blood tamed and infection fended off. That thrice-damned Senju damaged something too crucial. Cold sweat trickled down Madara's spine. Different sweat than one from the effort of fighting, different even from the one from chakra overuse and exhaustion and dizziness that followed. Madara knew it already – his brother would die. Not now, still not within the next hour maybe, but he was beyond saving.

Only a miracle would…

A miracle.

But the Senju were capable of such miracles. That was what gave them the edge over the other clans, over the Uchiha as well. They could resuscitate the wounded standing at the doorsteps of death. They didn't lose their shinobi. Madara couldn't count how many times he was shocked seeing the face of a Senju he was sure he had killed. It took some time to realize that and to adjust the strategy. Now he was leaving opponent _dead_ , not dying.

Now he needed that kind of miracle.

They had some intel already. They knew that Senju had developed a technique, maybe not necessarily a jutsu, but a method of chakra usage. No one ever saw it in practice, but a scout had seen the dying being taken to a tent with black walls, with seals woven into the fabric to prevent the spying. After an hour or so, the one that had been carried in bleeding and unconscious - went out, walking on his own.

It would have been prudent to wait. To intercept one of the healers once they left the tent. It would have been the correct course of action. But Madara couldn't wait. The knowledge that Izuna might have been drawing his last breaths made him act not like the clan leader should. Still, barging into the Senju camp wouldn't end well, a reciprocation would follow and the Uchiha desperately needed to regroup else the next clash would end with a massacre.

So, despite his instincts Madara resorted to stealth. The falling darkness as his ally, he put on a henge and propping himself on a makeshift crutch he limped towards the tent. Hopefully no good sensor would be around, no sensor skilled enough to recognize chakra of an Uchiha.

He didn't know what to expect there. Not even how many people. There were four of them – three women and a man, two of them standing by a bed with a badly injured shinobi, performing some strange ritual involving greenish chakra, and two other talking in hushed voices in the other corner of the tent.

At his entry all heads turned. Good. That was what he needed - with one powerful genjutsu he trapped them all. They fell to the floor like puppets released from their strings. The wounded on the table didn't react – he was unconscious anyhow, and with his healers gone he would bleed to death now.

Madara stepped deeper inside the tent. Whom to take? So much would depend on such a random choice… If the medic denied cooperation for too long Izuna would die… He came up to the two healers that were performing the ritual. And older man. And a young girl. Very young, fifteen maybe. Was she also capable of healing? Madara examined the image from couple of seconds prior, burnt into his brain with the Sharingan vision. Yes – she was producing that green chakra as well. She would be easier to break into obedience. And significantly easier to carry out inconspicuously.

Madara took off his cloak, positioned the girl on his back, and covered her with the fabric, pulling the hood over his head. With a bit of luck that should do.

He pushed past all his limits speeding to the Uchiha compound, chased by the dread of coming too late. He didn't. He was in time. When he deposited the unconscious girl on the floor next to Izuna's futon, his brother was still breathing.

He pried her eyes open to release the genjutsu, and immediately had to restrain a flung of her fist. He needed both hands and his body weight to pin her down so feisty she was fighting. And even then, she attempted to bite his arm.

"Stop struggling," he said trying to keep the anger, irritation and impatience away from his voice. "I won't hurt you if you comply."

In response the girl struggled even harder. Madara suppressed a sigh. He needed her healing Izuna not playing some gods-damned hero.

"Are you a healer?" he asked and made a deliberate pause. Answering a simple question was a beginning of every cooperation. That's why he didn't reiterate his question when she kept silent. He just waited.

In the end the girl nodded.

"Good. Because there is a dying man here. He needs your help."

The girl didn't struggle more, and her muscles weren't as tense as they had been before. Madara shifted his weight off her.

"There," he said nodding towards the futon while still keeping the girl's wrists in his grip. "There he is."

The girl licked her lips. "Alright. I'll try," she said.

He immediately sat up and let go off her arms. Madara refrained from threats, and from painting scenarios of what would happen in case she failed. It was a matter of trust and he wasn't going to cut this fragile thread that had just been spun between them. And if the girl recognized him, and judging from her reaction she had, the threats were obsolete.

The girl sat up as well. Too quickly. The post-effects of genjutsu still had her body in their hold and she swayed. Madara grabbed her at the waist and moved her towards Izuna's bed. She was so small that he could handle her like a doll, he concluded with surprise. Would she manage to rip his brother out of Shinigami's grip?

The girl carefully pulled down the blanket covering Izuna up to his chest. The blood-red that bloomed through the bandages stood in stark contrast to the whiteness of the sheets. And of his brother's skin.

The girl's fingers were swift and nimble when she pulled one layer of bandages after another.

"You're Uchiha," she stated rather than asked. "And you want me to help you."

"Yes," was all that Madara could answer.

The girl raised her eyes to him. So green, so unlike any Senju he had ever seen.

"Please," said Madara. "Please. He's my brother. My last brother…"

"You won't tell me that you will kill me if I don't? That you will torture me to death with those eyes of yours?"

"No… Because I don't know what I will do if he dies… I really don't know."

The girl's hands started to glow green. "Whatever it will be – my guess is that it won't be anything good." She lowered her palms to Izuna's chest. "And like this… Maybe there is a chance…"

"A chance?" echoed Madara.

"Yes, a chance…"

"For what?"

"For peace."

* * *

He learned later that the girl wasn't even a Senju. A foundling, one of the many that the clan of Thousand Hands took, adopted and trained into their soldiers.

But the girl never forgot that it was the shinobi who levelled her village to the ground, shinobi maybe even from the Senju clan itself. A desire for the end of fighting lived in her, stronger than anything else and certainly stronger than the loyalty to her adopted clan. When she had been taken, she had been assigned to healer's training by a man who discovered this technique. A man who secretly dreamt of peace.

That was how Madara learned that Hashirama had never abandoned the dream they shared.

When he deduced that fact from the healer's words and she understood that he knew Hashirama, her attitude to him changed. She never seemed particularly afraid, she was rather apathethic, accustomed to the fact she was used as a tool. But then it became obvious that she must have heard about Madara from Hashi's tales and she started to be friendly to him.

Half a year of her captivity (though captivity wasn't a correct term, she was going around the compound as she pleased and didn't seem inclined to escaping) Madara confined to her about his deteriorating eyesight. Her chakra didn't heal the damage already present, but it slowed the progression to the rate that Madara estimated would last his lifetime. Shinobi never lived long, even those most powerful ones.

It took quite some talking to convince Izuna to 'trust that damn Senju', as he was phrasing it, enough to let her heal his eyes as well. But Madara succeeded.

Three months later and something more from the girl that just her chakra seemingly seeped into Izuna's system during the healing sessions. When Madara raised the idea of signing a peace treaty in a private meeting with his brother and second-in-command, Izuna didn't explode as it would have been the case a year earlier. Pouring himself another cup of sake, he listened.

The hatred, looming over their clan like some curse, was no longer holding Izuna's soul in its grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I'm curious about your impressions!


	26. A Far Away Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an omake to my story Veil Over their Eyes. It takes place between chapters 1 and 2, but, in contrary to the fic itself, from Madara's perspective. I believe the knowledge of Veil Over Their Eyes is necessary to understand this drabble.

**26\. A Far Away Place**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Omake to Veil Over Their Eyes

**Idea:** me

* * *

He set up another camp. Same set of movements, set order of actions every evening. Chose the place, clear space for fire, gather the wood, pile it up, start it with Katon. Unpack the bedroll, prep whatever meat he got that day.

Familiar routine. It brought him peace. Many things were bringing him peace recently. The sole act of breathing for example. The feeling of sunshine on his skin, on his closed eyelids.

He had been in the far south already, and into that western part on the Land of Sand, where he had a hideout for some years. The heat and colours of the desert surprised him to no end despite seeing it so many times already. He never perceived them with such an intensity before.

The Land of Fire, which he travelled next, was greener. Green was ringing in his ears, invading his dreams, green was everywhere. Were the trees so green ever before? The world around him was absorbing so much of his attention that sometimes he thought he didn't need any events in his life anymore, that the perception alone would suffice until the end of his days. Had Zetsu been numbing him so much throughout those years? Was it actually the reason why he managed thirty years of isolation in the cave? Or was his current heightened perception caused by the fact that now he didn't pursue any goal and was simply able to notice more – not filtering out anymore only the information that would be significant for The Plan?

After the trek across the Land of Fire there were the mountains on the border to Stone. His cave – a sobering experience. Was it really him who lived there? Yes, it was him, Madara had to accept it. He was capable of much, and the cave was another testimony of it.

Then it was the plateau on the border to Lightning. Then traversing the sea. Now he was on a small, sparsely inhabited island in the Land of Water, the previous seat of Kaguya Clan, after spending some time in the Hidden Mist. That was as far as he would go. Zetsu must have gotten him so early, maybe when he became the leader of Uchiha Clan, maybe even earlier. He had to return now, face his deepest past. He went so far, so damn far and everything felt new, felt brighter, more vibrant, almost too much.

Every single thing, a view over the bay from the cliff where he was now sitting, clamor of birds, wind on his cheeks - was so intensive, touching his very self just by being there.

And she was also so intense to him. Good that their interactions were so subdued, good that she wasn't talking much, because he didn't know if he would have managed her otherwise. Because he enjoyed her presence immensely in the same time. Just another person next to him. Being, breathing, occupying the space. It was a most profound experience.

After the end of the war people were avoiding him like a pest. People were running away from him, hiding children (what was with the children? Why would someone imagine he would want to grab some random brat?), screaming for help… Nothing significantly different from the situation on any foreign territory in the times before Konoha founding. Only now the scale was different, as he was known all over the world. He didn't really mind being alone, but when she came along and asked if she could stay… Someone suddenly seeking out his company was… well, shock was a wrong word, how could something so benign as her plea for letting her stay by the fire be called a shock? It was just something he never even considered a possibility.

And then right away, when she stated her reasons, there was a pang of pity. Or maybe compassion? It was also a new thing – a pity for a singular fate. The pity for humanity was his motive, but he never considered individuals. And this girl – she bared her entire heart in front of him. Madara shifted his gaze from the horizon to his hands encircling his knees. Her asking to stay wasn't a shock. That was. That was a strange form of courage, but courage nonetheless.

She seemed so damaged on the inside. She didn't even know the extent of it herself. Maybe as damaged as he was after Izuna. Or maybe more. Or maybe it wasn't even a good comparison.

But what he saw in her was a will to survive. Not to lash around, not to destroy, not to change the reality as it used to be his impulse, but to pass through, to emerge from the other side of the tunnel. Earlier he would dismiss such attitude. Now it was attracting him.

She didn't assume that the reality was flawed just because her fate turned out to be less than fortunate. She didn't blame the world.

And then, when they were travelling to the ferry, she admitted to the strangest thing – that he had given her something that she was lacking, the kind of companionship she desired and wasn't getting from another. He brushed it off back then, responding with pointing out her issues. But it struck him to the bone. He never provided any comfort to another person; he was absolutely sure of that. What a weird feeling. What a good feeling.

And when she asked him how he had seen her, she forced him to formulate his experiences. It was not only that he was perceiving more about her than before. Before it was just an estimate of her strength (negligible), the type of her abilities (a medic always gave a certain advantage to the opponent) and otherwise he was only registering where and at what speed the pawn that had been her was moving. After Zetsu was gone, he saw _her_ – her facial features, the details, how her hair moved in the wind, how she squinted her eyes against the sun. Noticed the timber of her voice. But in that very moment, when she asked him – it was hard not to think about the fact that he simply liked what he was seeing in front of him.

He was looking forward to seeing her again.

Madara examined his hands. On some level he knew it when they parted ways. He just never verbalized the thought. But now he was coming back and it was time to face not only his past, but also his future.

He didn't even know her name… What a peculiar state of affairs – not to know the name of a woman with whom he intended to spend the rest of his life… He probably should have asked – it would make thinking about her easier. More normal, more ordinary… Well, he'll find out soon enough.

He looked at the bay again - countless flocks of birds, some on the mudflats, moving in synch in a giant, random ballet. Duck waddling in the shallows, flocks of swans in deeper water. Even further, some smaller, completely black birds, he couldn't quite tell what they were even with the Sharingan. Gulls circling overhead. Sounds, sounds, a cacophony of sounds everywhere.

Madara leaned back on the steep grassy slope.

She didn't want to challenge the world, and neither did he, not anymore. World was beautiful. And it kept turning with or without them. He once almost managed to stop this turning. He almost managed to stop this all. Madara looked at the flocks of birds.

Maybe it was better that he didn't. Yes, it was better.

And he remained himself. Even despite so many years of Zetsu's influence, he sits here, and he is himself.

Just to live out your life, just a normal life. Live out your time, as the part of this world.

Suddenly the flocks stirred. The started to move, all heads turned there where he was sitting. Swans gathered into tight circle. Wings flapping, smaller birds set of into air, some right away, some gaining speed paddling on the surface of the water.

From over his head an eagle glided, not moving his wings. Right into the bay. The birds flattered in panic. The eagle took rise beating his wings heavily. Madara could see the effort. Flying isn't always easy.

Make this one, very last event in his life. This very last effort.

How crazy it was? Was it crazy? He never thought he would do something like that.

There would be a great turmoil in Konoha, and a great turmoil in his heart. And who knew, maybe also in hers? But this was the way of life.

The birds calmed down as the eagle was tearing apart one of them; some even swam already closer. Just a moment of unrest and everything was back to how it had been.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to re-created the vibe of Veil (which I liked so much!), please tell me if I succeeded!


	27. Outcast

**27\. Outcast**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Warring Clans Era AU

**Inspiration/Idea:** Kotoffeya

He heard the steps behind him. He didn't turn. If he heard them, then they weren't a danger. You didn't hear a shinobi if he wanted to attack. Not that many would have been an actual danger to Uchiha Madara.

The steps were light and quick. And unrhythmical. As if hesitating.

Madara stopped. He still didn't turn but he tilted his head, indicating that he was paying attention. Whoever was there would be now wise to speak up.

He wasn't mistaken. His reputation had its perks.

"Madara-sama!" sounded a female voice. "Please wait!"

A female? That surprised him enough turn. A small, fair-haired figure in a kimono stood some ten meters away from him. He recognized the girl – a Senju healer, she became the chief of the healers recently after that old hag finally retired, and since than she was joining the council meetings.

The fact that he recognized her didn't mean he would deign an answer.

Girls exasperated gaze hung on his face. She clasped her hands in front of her chest.

"Madara-sama… Are you leaving?"

He shrugged. It was pretty obvious from the travel bag across his shoulder and gunbai strapped to his back.

"This is the road leading out of the village…" The girl answered her own question. Her eyes went even bigger. "Why? Why do you leave?"

The sheer amount of despair on her face spurned him to answer, even though he didn't understand why would this girl feel despair at the sight of him abandoning the village. Nor why would she run after him in the first place.

"From now on I will follow a different path."

"Different path? But Madara-sama, it was you, together with Shodai, who created this place! _This_ is your path! You made us all follow!"

Madara had to smile. A bitter, bitter smile. "Follow? I don't think so."

"What are you talking about? You are admired by so many people in the village, you are our leader!"

"Admired?" The girl was either ignorant or willfully obtuse. Probably ignorant – the Uchiha kept his affairs well hidden from the outsiders. Maybe she didn't know that he was already an outcast in his own clan. No one followed him. All had turned their backs. "Admired?" he repeated. "Are you talking about yourself?"

The girl opened her mouth in a rather unflattering way. But a moment later she squared her shoulders and looked at him with a renewed resolve. "In the matter of fact, yes. Yes, I do."

Surprised, Madara quickly referred to the memories from the last couple council meetings – indeed, the girl spent extraordinary amount of time looking at him. Peculiar.

Something shone in girl's eyes. Tears? "Madara-sama… Please, don't… Please, consider staying… If you can. Whatever drove you to this decision, please do consider the alternatives! I am sure that another solution can be found, Shodai is your friend! He will be devastated, and your clan… And many other people as well!" Her voice broke. "I will…" She looked him straight in the eyes. "I know it doesn't have any significance to you, but please know that with you leaving… this place won't ever be the same for me. This village," she made a gesture with her hand, "so full of people, it will feel empty for me. Without you in it." She dropped her head low and he saw tears dripping on the dust of the road. "So, please stay…"

"I cannot. I will pursue a different goal." He didn't have to be explaining himself in front of this girl. But surprisingly, her tears moved him. Someone to cry over him leaving? That was a thing to treasure. He didn't owe her anything, but it didn't mean he couldn't give out of his own free will. "A much bigger one than just this village. It became clear to me that this is my responsibility."

The girl was crying, hugging her torso with both her arms.

"I… understand… I mean, I don't what your goals are, but I understand why you're leaving." He heard her swallow. He nodded. Yes, he will treasure this short encounter. "If you cannot stay…" She made a pause. Stood there perfectly still like a statue, only wind moved the strands of her hair that in meanwhile slipped out of her bun. He could see the tension in all her muscles. What was she going to do? Try to attack? Nonsensical. The girl raised her chin up. "If you cannot… that please take me with you!"

Madara blinked. He had to give her that – she surprised him. "I cannot _take_ you." He saw the girl deflate, all her braveness and resolve melting, as if her entire body was about to dissolve into a puddle. "I cannot take you; you are not a scroll or a set of kunai." He turned away and started to walk towards the gate. "You have two legs. Use them if you want to."

There was a very, very long silence, he reached the half distance to the wall until he heard it. A pitter-patter of sandaled feet getting closer, until they slowed down and sounded by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my aim here was to reference and pay homage to imo one of the most climactic and crucial scenes in the manga (and accidentally, the very first Naruto scene I've ever seen) - Sasuke leaving Konoha in chapter 181. Did this drabble ring this bell for you?


	28. Imperfections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in a consciously risky step from my side, I will address the issue that is often raised up an argument against MadaSaku ship. The prompt Imperfections simply asks for it, and I consciously will try my hand in writing a relationship that shouldn't have happened. There will be absolutely nothing explicit nor non-consensual here, and I believe I had handle this difficult topic accordingly, but, if you have any second thoughts - skip this one.

**28\. Imperfections**

**Rating:** M

**Verse:** Modern!AU

**Warning:** Underage

**Inspiration/Idea:** me 

* * *

When he saw her first, on that house-warming party of her brother, he thought she is just petite. Now he knew – she was still growing. That evening a week ago she had quite some make-up, a scant, sequined top and jeans. Now, in the daylight, in a skirt to her knees, cute, buttoned down coat and long hair in ponytails – she looked probably even younger than she was. Shit.

Back during that evening, they danced and talked; exchanged the numbers and set up the meeting and now Madara was taken aback. How old was she even? Surely in school.

Yet magnetism was still there. Magnetism of a correct person in that wrong package. He still remembered how it sparked between them, as if finding an old friend, someone who just clicked with him on all levels. How he wanted to listen, really listen to what she was saying, despite the music booming from the speakers. How when he told her that his thesis was causing him troubles, she didn't ask if that was the procrastination, nor if that was too difficult, or too much work. She asked if he didn't know when to stop digging for information and finally start writing. How he wanted to make her laugh. Normally, in a party-situation, the acquaintance would turn physical rather quickly, but with her, he searched a quiet place not to make out but to talk.

Well, now that he already came for this date, it would be very ungentlemanly to stand her off. So they went, not for a beer, as he initially imagined, but for a coffee. Or rather a coffee for him, a tea for her. He was decided to politely tell her that they cannot meet again. But he didn't.

"I think I have to ask that, but how old are you?"

Sakura was mixing the sugar in her tea. It was long dissolved already, but she kept mixing. "I'm going to tell you the truth, even though I know I risk a lot with it. But take it as a token of my trust. Fifteen and a half."

He wanted to get up and leave right then. It froze the blood in his vein. He shouldn't even be sitting in the café with her.

"And how old are you? Like my brother?" she immediately returned the question, preventing him from standing up.

"Yes."

She hung her head low. So low that her bangs almost touched the teacup. "Hear me out," she said finally looking him straight into the eyes. "If you feel it as well, and I'm sure you do, don't let it slip just because we were born too far apart. This was a chance. A detail that won't matter in couple of years. That won't matter in the perspective of entire life. In a decade it won't matter. Heck, in five years it won't matter anymore. Let's not ruin that. Let's not let this idiotic coincidence ruin that."

Fighting with himself Madara agreed on another meeting.

"I can get you in horrible trouble. I know that. Let's not meet where other people can see us," she told him at the second meeting (or should he call it a date?), in the city park where she came with her dog.

They ended meeting during her walks with the dog, in the forest behind her house. They would spend some 45 minutes a day just walking and talking. Madara realized how much looking forward he was to it each day. How much he wanted to tell her stuff – about the studies, about the exams, about his rather complicated family situation. He never before had such a drive to share what was inside of him.

Declarations of love followed three months later. From her side. It was easy to dismiss them, due to her inexperience, but when he was in her presence, it wasn't easy at all. Was a simple lack of reference a knock-out condition? There always is a first love at some point of time, and exactly then the person lacks reference.

He had a reference. He had loved before. His first puppy love when he was about her age – oh, how he suffered. Then a relationship of two year around the beginning of studies (sadly, didn't work out). So he knew how to recognize love when he felt it. And to her he did. Unfortunately. It took him a month to admit it, first to himself then to her.

He couldn't imagine her not being a part of his life. Going home without seeing her and telling her about his day. Going to sleep without wishing her goodnight. Waking up without a short text. Days without her laughter and that peculiar slant of her eyes when she was grinning at him were significantly worse ones.

When another three months later she asked him to kiss her, he didn't object much, and now they were parting with a short peck at the lips.

* * *

"I got a stipend." His last year was almost over and his results just too good to go unnoticed.

Sakura raised her head. "Oh. That's great," he could already hear the alarm in her voice. She was too smart not to realize what a stipend meant. "And where?"

"In Singapore."

"How long?"

"A year."

"When?"

"End of next month."

The words hung like a death-sentence between them. But she didn't stop walking, and didn't comment further. From the tension in her shoulders he could see that she was working hard on analyzing the situation. He admired it in her so much – that tenacity to always try to the end, to never give up. To find a solution. But what was applaudable in her in general, could now mean true trouble for him.

He wasn't wrong. They didn't even reach their usual turning point on a clearing with large oaks, when she made her announcement

"I don't want to wait. If we don't see each other, you will find someone else. You will find a job there, or another opportunity someplace else. There will be different girls, older, better than me. You will pursue your life. I will be trapped here."

"I am planning to return."

"You are planning it now. There is no telling what will you think in half a year. I will fade from your memory and then from your life. You will forget that what we felt."

"You judge me very low."

"Your life is so out of my reach… I cannot go where you go. I cannot drive, I cannot go to a club, I cannot even go to the movies… I don't have my own money, my mum still knows the code to my phone. And she checks it front time to time, I know that!"

"Then how come she doesn't know about us?" interjected Madara. He wasn't aware of _that_.

"I have you under Mikoto," she dismissed quickly not letting him distract her, "and I delete most of the texts as they come. You see? I not even my own person. How am I supposed to ever keep up with you if you step away? Once you walk away you will never come back."

Madara sat heavily on the uprooted tree trunk. "I can offer only my words. If you don't believe.."

"You can offer more. I decided. I want that we do it." She was standing in front of him, looking him straight into the eyes. "No waiting. Now. Before you leave."

Madara interlaced his fingers and let his head hung. This was a nightmare.

* * *

She wouldn't be persuaded. She claimed that becoming intimate would seal the relationship. Madara tried pointing out that people split also _after_ having sex, but she was too shrewd to bite the bait. She knew how deep his sense of responsibility went.

Three days later, she showed up with a bag full of porn, intercalated between the pages of her math notebook.

"I took those magazines from my brother's bedroom," she said pushing them into his hands. "I was reading them. I don't… I don't understand why boys like it. But that's alright. Now I know how it's done. I'm not sure… I'm not sure if I'll be able to do all that what those ladies in the magazines do… probably not. It looks… very uncomfortable. But I get it. I think I'm ready."

"That makes absolutely no sense if you don't understand it. It only means that it is much too early for you."

"It's not! And I want! I want so much. I want to join with you, I want to become one. I don't care how it feels. I don't care if it hurts."

Madara looked at her determined expression. Brows knitted together; lips tightly pursed. A little fighter before the battle. "It is not supposed to be negative experience, you know? It is just an idiotic, harmful myth propagated by crappy literature."

"I don't care! It doesn't matter for me how I will feel and whether I will like it or not. What matters is that we seal it."

* * *

He was never so afraid before. There was never so little fun in the act. Sakura's determined expression and eyes shut tight and lips curved into a fine line… He tried as he could to prep her, they've been trying for a good month now. Fingers around her sex, one finger inside, two. She was getting more comfortable, and she was even getting moist down there. But it was far from what he normally expected from a willing partner. Yet she was willing. She initiated all the encounters, all six of them, as she reminded him, listing them on her fingers. She had been apparently counting. Now was the seventh go, the time of the month was such that she for sure, for sure, couldn't get pregnant and they were doing the do. He was wearing a condom that he freshly bought and, in a drugstore not on a gas station as usually. Still, he was never so afraid of getting a girl pregnant. With another, it wouldn't be that much of a big deal – you could get the day-after-pills in the end. With Sakura – that would be damn tricky. He could possibly beg some female friend to got to the pharmacy and lie on his behalf… But in those cases, hours mattered and he didn't even have many female friends he could trust to this extent.

He knew he had to be quick, and forget those idiotic ambitions about finishing her off. The shorter it lasted the better. If he couldn't bring her to the end with his fingers and mouth all that month long, he for sure wouldn't manage with his cock.

She was as wet as she would get, judging from the past experiences. Her panties were off, rest would stay, the afternoon was rather cold, especially in the shadow of this deep part of the forest and the blanket wasn't providing much isolation from the ground.

Her dog, bound to the tree seemed to be asleep. At least that. He would be spared doing that in front of an audience.

"Ready?"

"Ready," she answered. "Don't worry. We're in it together. Even if my circumstances put me at a total disadvantage, I'm here to be a partner to you. And in my head – I am. I really am. Even if it is only in my head…"

He managed it as short as he could. He couldn't tell if she enjoyed it, but she clung so tightly to him and even moved with him a bit, and, as far as he could tell, she wasn't in pain. He withdrew the moment he finished and gathered her to his chest, adjusting her clothing with another hand.

She pressed her legs together and nuzzled closer. "That was…" she paused as if searching for right words. "Very sweet."

* * *

He met several very interesting women in Singapore. One worked in the same building that he did. The second he met on a get-together for scholarship nominees. With both he would normally be more than willing to pursuit a relationship, maybe even a one with perspectives.

He didn't. The picture of wide-eyed, skinny girl was permanently in his mind. Permanently in front of his eyes.

They didn't see each other for the entire year. When he came to home, it was exactly during the winter break at school, and Sakura was with her family on some exotic holidays. She told him that she was crying about that two weeks non-stop and he was inclined to believe it. They were texting, calling was very risky, so they managed only couple of times.

When they finally saw each other again in October the following year, it was the best moment in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Your thoughts on this difficult topic?


	29. Long Distance Love

**29\. Long Distance Love**

**Rating:** T

**Verse:** Omake to Dreamt 

**Inspiration/Idea:** me

* * *

Sakura put the end of the pen into her mouth. Phrasing the letter to Madara was a real challenge when she knew that it would be read at minimum by Tsunade and Kakashi. And at max - read aloud in front of the entire council. Sakura cringed at the thought. On top of it all, she didn't still have a great feel about how Madara saw the husband-wife interactions, especially in public. She should try to keep it formal.

_My husband,_

_I am happy to inform you that I've arrived safely to Konoha. I received a warm welcome and I wanted to thank you once again for your commitment to rebuilding the relations with Konoha for my sake. I cannot even express how happy I was to see the faces of my family and friends._

_Hokage and the Council agreed to commence the negotiations, and we had the first meeting yesterday. I presented your positions according to what we've previously discussed. There was no time for anything else, because, together with the questions and my clarifications (The Council was not aware of the nature of Black Zetsu nor of anything that had transpired between you two) it took entire day._

_The next meeting is scheduled in two days, and I will inform you about all the proceedings as soon as they take place._

_This letter and all the following ones will be read and accepted for sending by both the and future Hokages._

_Your wife,_

_Sakura_

* * *

**_Sakura,_ **

**_I am very relieved to hear that you are alright. Please do mention how are you feeling in your next letter._ **

**_Opening of the negotiations was the only logical step Konoha could take, I am nevertheless glad that they realized it so soon. I wasn't expecting that level of correct judgment from them. Let us hope that this is an indicator of swift and reasonable negotiations._ **

**_Forgive the brevity of my letter, but since no Konoha's position has been presented yet, I have nothing to comment on._ **

**_Take good care of yourself._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_Madara_ **

* * *

_My beloved husband,_

_I have to admit that today's meeting was difficult._

Sakura put the pen down. It was downward horrid actually. She sat there like an accused on one side of the table, while the entire Council – Tsunade-shishou, Kakashi-sensei, the councilors plus heads of all the clans sat on the other. Good that they didn't make her stand. But it didn't make the accusations that they threw at her any easier to bear. On some level she knew that they weren't directed at her personally. The real recipients were Madara and Obito. But still, the hatred and aggression poured on her head, bathed her whole, because _she_ was the one present. She also had an impression that some (many? how many?) people saw her marriage to Madara as an act of treason.

Sakura took a deep breath. It was all so sad. But she knew it would be difficult when she proposed negotiating Madara's return to Konoha. He, himself would have never attempted it – it was her project, and it was all for her own sake.

… _Konoha expresses its strongest possible contempt towards Obito's actions and demands the rightful punishment. The charges include desertion, orchestrating the Kyūbi attack that caused 238 dead, circa 1300 wounded, and the material damage of 50 million ryo (which I think is exaggerated), as well as leading an international terrorist organization, starting the war and releasing of Jūbi._

_I pointed out that no amount of punishment would do justice to Obito's past crimes, but I argued against including the consequences of the 4th War, as the Jūbi had been withdrawn voluntary and hostilities ended from our side._

_Nevertheless, the prevailing sentiment in Konoha is a desire to have Obito dead._

_Your involvement in the war was touched only superficially, but the focus was put on you being the mastermind behind Mugen Tsukuyomi Plan. Here I argued again, that the Plan has been stopped at your own accord, and at the point of time when you had a clear upper hand._

_Even though this letter is open to the eyes of others, I would like to assure you of my feelings towards you._

_Yours,_

_Sakura_

_PS. I am doing really well, the morning sickness didn't trouble me at all the last days. Tsunade-sama examined me yesterday, and both the children and me are perfectly fine._

* * *

**_Sakura,_ **

**_I am sorry to hear that the meeting was straining for you. I wish you all the patience and self-control when dealing with the council. Please have always your health on your mind, and don't let the ordeal push you out of equilibrium._ **

**_Please remind the esteemed Council, that the reason they are able to sit in their chairs is because I ended the war. And in case this argument is not persuasive enough, please mention the number of tailed beasts that I am currently holding._ **

**_I apologize for the above. I believe that direct threats won't be the most efficient method. I am sure you will find a better and more political way to bring these points to their attention._ **

**_As for Obito, I think it is worth emphasizing that the valuable Uchiha gene pool is alive in very few people at this point of time, and that Konoha would benefit from him being alive, and living as a citizen of the village._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_Madara_ **

* * *

Sakura tapped against the tabletop with her pen. Fuck the council. Fuck the formalities. She missed him and she wanted to tell him that. And she wasn't ashamed of loving her husband!

_My love,_

_I know that I should write about the negotiations, and that this is what you are probably most eager to hear, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And I wish so much that you were here._

_Today's meeting wasn't too bad. It seems that some people got certain things out of their systems and felt better afterwards._

_I did raise the point of the tailed beasts, and since I knew that I have quite some room for negotiations there, I let them chew on the possibilities and break their heads over the consequences. It lasted the whole day, but in the end the Council believes they won a major battle when I agreed on letting the beasts go. They didn't know of course, that it was your intention all along. I was able to negotiate your recognition as the Head of restored Uchiha Clan, return of clan's rights and property for that._

_Forever yours,_

_Sakura_

* * *

**_Sakura,_ **

**_I am sure you have these negotiations firmly in grip. I am happy that you bargained so much for the beasts. Letting them go in these circumstances will be even more satisfying. Not only I will finally correct Hashirama's fatal mistake of sealing them in the first place, but also win benefits from the village._ **

**_How are the things looking for Obito? He agrees on every kind of detainment and restrictions of his liberties. It seems that he doesn't care what will happen with him, which makes this point significantly less complicated._ **

**_Your loving husband,_ **

**_Madara_ **

Sakura put the letter down because she needed a moment to simply grin. She wrote a paragraph of love confessions to which he didn't refer to in any way. Except that his closing phrase was for the first time different.

* * *

_My love,_

_Today the first version of the agreement has been formulated. You cannot imagine how happy I was to see it finally on paper, after all these weeks. I feel that it brings us so much closer to our goal._

_I attach the copy of the draft. I believe the most of the conditions are more than acceptable for us, but please pay attention to the financial aspects of restoration of Uchiha compound. I might have missed something there, as I've seen in inhabited only as a child. Maybe Obito can be of help in this matter?_

_From the side of the Council I can foresee some serious qualms coming only from the side of the Hyūga clan. And of course, from the elders, but that was only to be expected. And ignored._

_I am optimistic about our progress and it makes me feel so very happy._

_Yours,_

_Sakura_

PS. Hi Uchiha-san! How are you? Don't worry about Sakura-chan, she is doing great here! Getting really round around her waist, as well! And Tsunade-o-baachan got some grey hair because of Sakura-chan's mad negotiation skills! Oops I shouldn't be telling you this, right? I hope they won't read my ramblings… Anyways! Me and Sasuke-teme are still kind of mad at you that you stole Sakura-chan from us, but you better hurry up and don't be too hard with those negotiations and just come here already because she is missing you like hell! And, gee Uchiha-san, I almost forgot – Kurama and me want to tell you: THANK YOU for the beasts! Cheers from Uzumaki Naruto!

_PS2. Madara, I'm so sorry! Naruto wrote this bullshit above when I was in the toilet! And now I don't have time to re-write the letter because the meeting is in 5 minutes! I'm sorry, just ignore him._

_PS3. But I do miss you._

_PS4. I just got the message that the Hyūga accepted!_

* * *

**_Sakura,_ **

**_Please find attached the signed agreement. I will be coming the day after tomorrow._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_Madara_ **

**_PS. I cannot wait._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... long time no see... A tiny come-back of Dreamt! Please tell me what do you think about it.


	30. Distractions

**30\. Distractions**

**Rating:** E

**Verse:** Hokage Madara by victoriacapo

**Inspiration/Idea:** video by victoriacapo (https://victoriacapo.tumblr.com/post/637607827593216000/sakura-flashing-eyes-madara-what-are-you)

* * *

She came to his office. Which on its own wasn't even that unusual – she was showing up from time to time especially when she had a morning shift. Usually it was accompanied with questions about how long he would stay at work.

So he wasn't really surprised to see her. He was very surprised though when after a usual quick peck on the lips and quick question about his day, she dragged a chair to the shorter side of the desk and sat down there.

"Yes?" he asked.

Sakura only shrugged and placed her chin on her palm.

"What is it?" he reiterated the question.

"Oh nothing…" she mused, not letting her eyes off him.

"There must be a reason why you are sitting here…"

Sakura just hummed a negation and continued to eye him. He was starting to get irritated. He didn't like being watched.

"If you have nothing to say, then I think it would be more useful if you went home. I'll be able to concentrate on my work," he pointed to the pile of papers in front of him, letting the 'because with you staring at me I cannot' unspoken. "And I will come home sooner."

Sakura pouted. Her lips looked really nice when she pouted. "Oh, but I want just to spent some time with my husband..."

"Your husband is working."

"And I'm just sitting here, not disturbing you at all… See?" She made a gesture around her mouth. "Quiet as a mouse!"

He tried reading that trading proposal. He read the section regarding the customs' regulations already the second time and still didn't understand what the Stone official wanted to say. He started reading for the third time. And stopped mid-paragraph. It wasn't the wording of the document. It was Sakura.

Sakura in his peripheral vision, her red tailcoat, or whatever that obscenity that was leaving her belly-button on full view was called. Sakura and her half-opened lips and eyes plastered to his face.

He couldn't work like that. Madara put down his pen. "I would really prefer that you went home." Sakura only shook her head. "What do you even want here?" Irritation that he was feeling since couple of minutes finally surfaced in his voice. Sakura made a gesture emphasizing that her lips were firmly shut. What an idiotic and childish behavior. He really wasn't in mood for that. "What do you want from me, woman?!"

Sakura smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

And then he got it. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated. There was a faint, but still noticeable for someone who knew her as well as he did, blush on her cheeks. And her lips were a tiny bit redder than usually, and no, it wasn't the lipstick.

She was excited, wasn't she?

If he activated his Sharingan he could probably see if her nibbles were pebbled. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't give her this satisfaction. She came here, clearly with a purpose on her mind, sat here saying nothing at all, as if hell-bent on irritating him. He would have gladly complied if she had asked nicely. Very gladly, in fact. But no. She had to sit here and play that little game of hers.

Her lips were still pouted, and her fingers were touching her cheek. Suddenly he wanted nothing more but those fingers skimming along his cock and cupping his balls.

His wife looked at him with all the innocence in the world. Completely fake innocence. Her pinky was almost in her mouth!

Madara closed the folder with the draft of trading contract with a bit more force than it was necessary.

"You're wanting and you're not saying anything?" he asked incredously. "You're wanting and you just keep sitting here?"

Sakura looked at him with staged surprise. Oh, would she finally drop this façade? He really wasn't into it!

She wouldn't. She didn't move a muscle.

Madara stood up. She had riled him up enough. He won't be nice.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to her feet. He hated this outfit. On regular days he hated it for the red top part. Today he was hating the fact that she was wearing trousers with it. With a dress it would have been easier.

He shoved her chest first to the desk and yanked at the buttons of her trousers. Fortunately, they let go easily. He pulled the trousers down to her knees. Sakura so far didn't make a single sound. Well, he would change it soon, thought Madara opening his trousers.

Without any preamble he rammed into her. He didn't even bother to check if she was prepared or not. She pissed him off. Ready or not, she would handle him.

Well, she was rather ready, judging by how easy he slid in. Nevertheless, she screamed, arching and trying to accommodate the apparently unexpected intrusion. He wouldn't have any of it – he pressed her flat to the table, constricting her movement and snapped his hips viciously. Sakura let out a grunt. Her head was lying on the table, her cheek pressed for sure uncomfortably to the wood. He thrusted with full force; each plunge was accompanied by her gasp.

But he wanted it differently. He wanted her to look at him if she was so hell-bent on it today. Plus, he knew his wife too well – she was able to get off in this position even if he didn't pay much attention to her. Even if he was actively trying to not let her finish.

He pulled out and tugged at the left leg of the trousers. Surprisingly, Sakura cooperated and stepped out of it. But it wasn't enough to placate him.

He grabbed her at the waist and lifted her to the table. Not having much hold, she had to lean back and lie flat. Madara grabbed her thighs to spread her wider. When he bottomed out, he cherished the expression on her face more than the feel of her cunt around him.

He set up a fast rhythm, each time filling her to the end. Spread on the slippery table, she couldn't respond, she could just receive. And receive she did. All of his thrusts and then all of his spent.

When, panting, he slipped out of her, satiated and no longer angry, she quickly sat up and sent him a toothy smile. Apparently not bothered at all by the rough treatment - concluded Madara with a relief. Now, that he was off his high, he was starting to have second thoughts.

"Why don't you sit down, you seem tired… You've worked so hard…" she cooed. He complied – sitting was always a good option after finishing. Lying down would have been even better, but it was Hokage's office... Madara plopped heavily on the chair, not taking his eyes of Sakura who, instead of gathering her clothes or something in this vein, propped both her feet at the edge of the table. And started to finger herself. His essence was oozing out of her as she worked herself directly in front of him. He almost got hard again when she finished and threw her head back riding her orgasm against her very messy hand.

Only then she looped her underwear and trousers on her left leg (having first licked her fingers clean), pulled them up, adjusted the tailcoat and bent down to peck him on the lips.

"Don't stay too long, alright?" she said and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you like the final smut of this month :)))


	31. Weakness

**31\. Weakness**

**Rating:** T

 **Verse:** None. Just my stream of consciousness

 **Inspiration/Idea:** me

* * *

"I love you."

Madara held her closer. Sakura rubbed her nose against his pectoral. Normally this was when a return sentence would follow. But with him it won't. No matter. She didn't crave it, not anymore. But maybe she should tell him just that. So that he doesn't feel pressure to try, or gods forbid – pretend something!

"Madara?" She glimpsed up. "It's ok that you don't love me… I… I think that maybe it is better this way… Better for you. Maybe I even prefer that you don't. You said you never loved anyone, and I maybe it was what enabled you to go through all this… All this that you've done with your life… You don't have to start now for me. With the way you are now - nothing can hurt you. And if on the scale there is you staying unhurt and me getting my selfish satisfaction out of you returning my feelings then with all my heart I prefer you unhurt. That's... ok. So, please, don't fall in love with me. I would hate to rip a hole in your armor, to weaken you this way. I love you too much for that. I can live with my love not returned if thanks to it I know you're safe forever. Loving someone is wanting him happy and safe from harm. I'd rather chop my hand off than put you in harm's way."

"I find it very surprising when you worry about my safety… It really isn't that necessary, and definitely needs some getting used to…"

"Does it irritate you? I'm sorry, I cannot help it…"

"Well, I don't want you to worry. But no, it doesn't irritate me. It is rather… endearing. No one did it for a very long time. And rest assured. I don't have many weaknesses."

"Oh, great Uchiha Madara," giggled Sakura, "do you even have one? But that is exactly what I'm talking about. Now you have no weaknesses. I don't want them to appear."

"Where did you get this fixation about love being a weakness?"

"Uhm.. From Sasuke I guess… That's more less his words. It was his motto; he would have carved it on his forehead if he could. When I was younger it was driving me crazy. I wanted to shake him, punch him, smash that idiotic idea out of his head. I think I felt personally offended by it - I was assuming that he would automatically start loving me once he dropped that attitude. Gods, how stupid I was. On so many levels." Sakura cover her face with her palm. Shame was a permanent feature in all her recollections connected to Sasuke.

"But my Sasuke-issues apart," she picked up, "I used to think that not loving someone, not being able to love, was some flaw. Some malfunction in a person. Or at the very best something to be pitied as such a person would miss out on the most important things in life. But being around you has changed my mind. Sasuke always said bonds were weakness. I hated when he was saying that. Everything was boiling in me. With every freaking fiber of my being I wanted to prove him wrong.

You never said that. You just said that you never loved. You never said you were happy or proud about that. You don't provoke me to prove you wrong. And all I feel is acceptance and relief."

"Relief? Why?"

"Because only the one whom you love can really, really hurt you. Your soul, I mean of course. And this way I know I never will. I will never hurt you. And neither will anybody else, because I don't have to worry about someone hurting your body, right? I'm so lucky in this aspect, I still cannot believe how lucky I am... I want to sing and dance in praise to all the gods that I must never fear about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with this drabble we come to the end of the month. It was a real journey and I'm grateful to all that have joined me for the ride! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did :) Thank you for all the comments, they were truly needed during this marathon!
> 
> There is a voting poll for the favourite story of this collection on my profile on ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9126931/#  
> Please, if you enjoyed Come Home collection, spare me a minute and leave your vote! I really like data, so after me feeding you with stories, please give me some feedback!


	32. Chapter 32

I made a poll (on ff.net) for audience's favourite story from Come Home collection. There have been so many different types of fic over January, and I certainly have my own favourites. And I am very curious if they somehow correlate with readers' preferences. Also: did most people like the same stories, I wonder?

Please, if you enjoyed the stories I published over the January, provide some entertainment back to me and feed me with the data!

Poll is available on my ff.net profile (https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9126931/) and I will be very grateful if you vote. (You don't need an ff.net account to vote, I just checked!)


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